Freefall
by newyork24-7
Summary: An AU story. Johnathan Kent is gone and Martha Kent is going to do whatever she has to to survive and protect her family.
1. Chapter 1

**This story starts at Season 2 episode 5.**

 **AU in that Johnathan Clark died in the twister at the end of season 2, along with the journalist who discovered Clark's secret.**

* * *

The familiar lilt of the piano tune echoed around the room as Lex stepped through the door. "Chopin," he remarked laconically. "I always thought you found him too sentimental."

His father barely reacted, his fingers not so much as faltering as he replied, "No Lex, I find he sometimes lacks subtlety." He lifted his shoulders along with the music, a ghost of a smile across his lips, murmuring, "Sometimes." His eyes remained closed as he continued, "I take it from your tone that you're angry with me. What transgression have I committed now?"

Lex leaned across the edge of the instrument, hands folding together. "I wasted yesterday interviewing more prospects," he replied lowly. "Only to find that you've hired Mrs Kent." His eyes narrowed at Lionel's quiet chuckle. "What's your angle?"

"Angle? Martha Kent is a very...capable woman. Unshakeable honesty like hers, it's hard to come by."

Inhaling sharply, Lex made his way around the piano, commenting, "And she just so happens to be one of the few pillars of this community who could ingretiate the despised tycoon with the citizens of Smallville."

Lionel's amusement was clear on his features, a laugh in his voice as he answered, "I hadn't thought about it in those terms. I suppose that's an unexpected benefit."

"I don't know what your interest is in the Kents, but I want you to stay away from them. They mean a lot to me and they've been through enough"

Finally, Lionel stopped playing, his lips thinning in grim amusement. "And I wonder what they would think of you trying to meddle in their affairs. Do you think if you're a very good boy, they'll welcome you into what's left of their family?"

"Well it would certainly be a step up." Lex snapped back, his teeth gritted in ill concealed frustration.

His reaction prompted Lionel's trademark throaty chuckle. "You know Zeus had a son, an adopted son, who thought he could find a home among mortals. Do you know what happened to the well intentioned Prometheus?

Rolling his eyes at the question, Lex replied, "His Dad had him chained to a rock and his liver was eaten by vultures. Why?"

"Prometheus was immortal Lex, no matter how much he wanted to escape the world he was born into, the world of the Gods, it wasn't possible!" Lionel scowled in the direction of his son. He was tired of trying to explain, of trying to make his son see that his life wouldnt, couldn't be like that of the Kent's. He was destined for greatness, to take up the mantle of the Luthor legacy.

Tired of the converation, and sensing that there was nothing to win from pursing this conversation, Lex made to leave, grounding out, "If I find out that you have any agenda that could hurt the Kents, this amiable father son time will come to an abrupt end."

The strains of Chopin was his answer.

Lionel listened to his son leave, his fingers flying smoothly over the keys, the ability to play committed to muscle memory. The music brought him some peace, but it couldn't completely soothe him. He had tried to understand Lex, but he just couldn't understand his need to be just like everyone else. Lionel had spent years clawing his way up from nothing, building a future that would span generations of Luthors, that would ensure that they were remembered in history. All that effort, and his son and heir would rather be the progeny of a farmer. He shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

As the piece reached it's crescendo, Lionel thought of his conversation with Martha Kent. She had surprised him, something he didn't consider an easy feat. He sifted through his memory for an image of her. He vaguely remembered her, clutching at a dark haired toddler, murmuring soft words of encouragement, a flash of red hair, nothing else. She had seemed so inconsequential at the time, potraying herself as nothing more than a wife and mother, her husband had appeared of more use to him. A smile curled his lips, he had been of use to him, a way into a town that had appeared closed off to him. In comparison he had believed that Martha Kent held no benefit to him, her immediate attachment to the boy had been useful in that it had spurred Johnathan Kent to do whatever he had to to keep the child, but that had appeared to be the limit to her uses. Appearance in this case truly had been deceiving.

His fingers remained splayed lightly across the piano keys, his thoughts now on something other than music and the problem that was Lex. Lex had accused him of wanting to exploit the Kents and for once he didn't have that angle in mind. A point that may change, he admitted to himself, after all there was something...odd going on there, but at present other than stirring some mild curiousity it held no interest for him. He had meant what he told his son, he found Matha Kent capable, interesting and when he discovered her credentials decided that she would make a competent assistant. Lionel didn't exactly suffer fools gladly and he was tired of dealing with the ineptness from Lex's offerings. No, Martha Kent would do nicely, and if she did prove to be of some other use to him then he wouldn't be turning the other cheek, he was a business man after all. Lex would just have to...what was the phrase...ah yes, get over it.

* * *

"What do you mean you said yes?" Clark stared at his mother in disbelief, unable to believe what she's just said.

"It's a good offer, we could use the extra money" Martha replied, glancing momentarily at her son before turning her attention back to the dishes. "And it will be nice to use all that education and training I had."

"But what about the farm?"

"Lionel has offered to pay for two farmhands to help out during the day."

A scowl graced Clark's features. "That's...generous." He shrugged, muttering under his breath, "some might say too generous."

Martha shot a wry look at her son. "Lionel Luther's assistants don't exactly get an easy time of it, so the salary reflects that. He's deducting part of the cost of the workers from my pay. So there's nothing untoward."

Clark's expression didn't change. "And the rest of the cost? Where's that coming from?"

"It's in lieu of a bonus," she replied calmly. Drying her hands, Martha turned to look at her son, her eyes scanning over his hunched frame, the way his fists clenched as he struggled with how he felt. "Clark, this is the best step forward for us. We can't keep going the way we are. There's too much work for just the two of us."

Shaking his head in frustration, Clark snapped, "I can do the work! In the morning and evenings, I can do it!"

Moving over to him, Martha ran her hand over his tense shoulders, squeezing lightly. "Clark, you're a teenager, you can barely get up in time for school. And as for the evenings, you have homework, not to mention that you should have the chance to go out, enjoy yourself."

The ghost of a smirk played across Clark's features. "It's not as though I'm a normal teenager, Mom. I can manage all of it."

"No, Clark." She rubbed at her eyes tiredly. "It wouldn't work."

"Why not? We're managing!"

Martha shook her head. "No, Clark we're not."

His head shot up, confusion sparking in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"It's not just the amount of work...your father let his life insurance lapse, what with the cost of the funeral, the repairs to the farm after the twister..." She sighed loudly, fighting back tears of frustration. "If things continue like this, without an extra income we'll lose the farm."

"He...no...no. Dad wouldn't let something like that happen," Clark ground out, his jaw set.

"I'm sure it was an oversight, it's not something he would have meant, but we need to be realistic. If I take this job then I can continue to manage the farm, the way I always have, the two extra pair of hands will mean that you don't work yourself into the ground trying to fit maintaining a farm in around your education and my salary will keep us afloat." She managed a weak smile. "It might even give us a little extra, we could maybe have the odd treat."

"Dad wouldn't want you to work for Lionel Luthor," Clark replied stubbornly.

"You're right," she acknowledged. "He wouldn't. But he isn't here anymore, and as much as it hurts to admits that we can't keep burying our heads in the sand. We need to do something."

"Something that isn't working for Lionel Luthor."

"There isn't another option just now," Martha told him softly. "It's this or lose this place, and I don't want that. This was your father's legacy, I won't be the one who lets it die, not without a fight."

Clark got to his feet, staring down at her as he repeated his point once more, "Lionel Luthor is trouble."

"Perhaps, but unless you want to move to a run down appartment in downtown Metropolis then he's the only option we have."

A scathing noise of disgust escaped Clark as he turned and stomped from the room. Martha watched him go, listened to the heavy clump of his boots on the stairs and the slamming of his bedroom door before sinking back against the counter-top, her hands running through her hair. Never had she imagined that this would be how her life would turn out, a widow on the verge of bankruptcy.

She blinked back tears, she missed Johnathan, missed him more than words could describe, but equally she was angry with him. Angry with him for leaving her in this position, angry with him for leaving her alone. He ran straight into death's waiting arms, he had been safe, they had been safe and he had ran out there like a damn fool. Why hadn't he just let it go? For once, why had he not listened? She swiped at her eyes as the first tear hit her cheek. She knew why he hadn't listened, to protect Clark and had he not been there she would have done the same. But it didn't stop her anger. How could she ever tell Clark why his Dad had died? He would never understand, he would blame himself and she couldn't lose him too.

Lionel Luthor was a necessary part of their survival, a fact she found unfortunate but then there was a lot about her life that could be described with that word. Some would describe her decision to give up her career and move to the backwater towan that was Smallville as that, her father would certainly describe her marriage with that word. A bitter, choked laugh escaped her lips, the doctor had once described her infertilty as unfortunate and even now Johnathen's death was called the same. Such an inconsequential word for two of the biggest tragedies in her life.

Her son clearly thought that she couldn't handle Lionel Luthor, but she could. She knew men like him, grew up in that vipers nest. Ambition was everything, ruthlessness was the name of the game and you didn't show weakness. She could handle that, and what's more she would do it without compromising her principles. Her shoulders straightened, she could manage Lionel Luthor, and she would drag the remenents of her family out of the gutter.


	2. Chapter 2

**I have to be honest I've not long started watching Smallville recently, so I'm only on season 4. Apologies if my characterisation is off.  
**

* * *

It was the light clicking of heels on the floor that drew Lionel's attention, he looked unseeingly forward. "You didn't change your mind then?"

"Did you think I would?" Martha asked, resting against the door frame. It wasn't a pose she would normally strike on starting a new job, but then it wasn't as though he was about to catch her.

He shrugged as he got to his feet. "I did wonder if perhaps you might be talked out of it."

She laughed, it was brief and quiet, but there was no doubting what he'd heard. Lionel frowned momentarily, he wasn't used to hearing laughter, not past the forced laugh of employees or the humourless bark that Lex sometimes gifted him with. It was refreshing. "You think I would be so easily swayed?" Martha asked him, drawing him back from his thoughts.

"I hoped not, I've been disapointed enough by my recent assistants. Although one declining to even start the job would most certainly be a new low."

"Well, if your lawyer didn't put me off then I'm sure nothing will."

"Ah, you saw him then?"

"Oh yes." Martha rolled her eyes as she walked further into the room. "He waylaid me at the front door. That's quite the welcoming party."

He chuckled at the dryness of her tone. "I'm sure you can understand the rather pressing need for those close to me to sign confedentiality agreements. What was it they said during the war? Ah, yes, loose lips sink ships."

"They do, but to go from housewife to corporate espoinage in just one day is quite a leap."

"Some would say that gaining such a highly coveted position after spending years in the wilderness would be as equal a leap."

"I suppose they might," she admitted. "But you can rest easy, Mr Luthor, I have signed your agreement." A deal with devil, that she was sure of, but then needs must and she could hardly afford to be picky.

"Lionel," he corrected her unthinkingly.

Martha's eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry?"

His eyes narrowed slightly at his own slip, his lips thinning briefly. He had never given any of assistants leave to use his name, never wanted to, he believed it made him look too human. His fingers twitched against his desk, but then he supposed that he would need to rely on Martha Kent more than he had ever relied on any previous assistant. "Lionel," he told her again. "If it is just the two of us, then surely we can drop the formalities."

"If that's what you want."

"It is, as long as I can refer to you as Martha."

"I rather expected it." She had expected him to enjoy lording over his assistants and didn't expect it to be any different for her, he had surprised her in that regard.

"Good, then that's settled." He waved roughly in the direction of the chairs in front of his desk. "Take a seat and we'll get started."

He heard the rustle of her clothing as she sat, then the clicking of a pen. He tried to picture her, poised and ready to start, not for the first time he racked his brain trying to remember what Martha Kent looked like. Disapointingly nothing came to him. "So, where do you want to start?" She asked.

Lionel reached to his left, his fingers swiftly counting the number of files on his desk, checking they were all there before pushing them in her direction as he answered, "I recieve reports every week from the different subsections within Luthorcorp, I would normally use my audioreader but as you're aware it met it's end yesterday and it's replacement has yet to turn up."

"I imagine these reports are even less interesting in that voice," Martha quiped. She opened the first report, her fingers skimming over the pages.

"Yes, and they weren't always the most scintillating to begin with."

She made a small noise of agreement. "So, do you want me to read them to you word for word, or would you rather I read them and prepared a summary and read that to you?"

"Preferably the latter, however, I feel it's only fair to warn you that one of my last assistants failed miserably at this."

"Well then, I'll endevour not to disapoint. Am I allowed to ask questions that will help me orientate myself with the corporation? Or would you condsider that making things too easy for me?

He laughed, amused by the dryness in her tone. "I'll allow it."

* * *

Lex flipped the newspaper in half, raising his eyes up to Clark's, gesturing at the headline as he remarked, "Another mark on the Luther name. My father's leaving me quite a legacy. You might want to give your mother a heads up. If she's going to work for my father then this is what she's getting herself into."

"My mother can take care of herself, Lex. Besides I haven't seen her this excited about something in a long time," Clark replied. He wasn't happy about her decision, he couldn't and wouldn't pretend that he was. But it was her decision to make, and it had been nice to see her smile this morning, to hear the excitement in her voice as she talked about getting back to work. So as much as he disagreed with who she had chosen to work for, he didn't want to keep bringing it up. He wanted her to be happy, especially after months of misery.

Getting to his feet, Lex rounded the desk. "To tell you the truth Clark I was a little surprised, considering all my offers to ease your family's financial situation have been met with a resounding no, it stung a little to see her name on my father's payroll."

"Well to be honest it wasn't exactly a unanimous decision in the Kent household."

Lex laughed humourlessly as he shrugged on his jacket. "My father's the poster boy for family strife, I'm sorry it's spreading."

"Not exactly your fault," Clark told him.

"No." He sighed, "Look I'll look into Metron, see where he's hiding the proverbial bodies. But in the meantime I have to go, some of us Luthors actually have to work for a living."

The whirring of helicopter blades prevented Clark from replying, as he made his way to the nearest window to look out. "Wow, I didn't realise the traffic in Smallville had gotten so bad," he joked.

"It's my father's. Hope your Mom likes helicopters."

"My family doesn't fly much."

A small smirk graced Lex's features. "Trust me, that's about to change. I'll talk to you later Clark."

Clark didn't turn to watch him go, he was too busy watching his Mom cross the garden, her arm linked in Lionel Luthor's. His eyes narrowed, the man was blind, he needed assistance, he knew that, but that didn't stop the knot of disquiet and distrust forming in his stomach.

* * *

Martha's arm had threaded through his without any prompting, Lionel had been surprised to note. There had been no fussing, no fanfare, she had simply moved to his side and slid her arm around his, her hand resting gently on his forearm as her other hand passed him his stick. His other assistants had fumbled and he could always feel them awkwardly jumping around him, apologising profusely if they so much as grazed him.

Meanwhile, her insights were quick and valuable, she didn't waste words on small talk and she had been surprisingly easy to be around. He had found losing his sight difficult to adjust to, had hated that he suddenly had to rely on others, but there was something about Martha Kent that made it easier. Even now as she led him into the helicopter, told him to watch his head, her hand brushing against his shoulder.

"First time in a helicopter?" he asked as her hands deftly clipped his seatbelt together.

"I wasn't exactly expecting a trip to Metropolis on my first day," she admitted.

Martha tried to comb her hair back into some form of respectability as she sat back in her seat. Her brain was buzzing, she had enjoyed her day. God help her she actually liked working for Lionel Luther, liked the challenge, the element of surprise. She had just had that thought when the helicopter lurched, a jarring noise renting the air. She yelled out in surprise, reaching out, steadying herself on Lionel's shoulder.

Martha could hear the uncertainty in Lionel's voice as he asked, "Bob, what's going on?"

"I don't know."

The helicopter tilted and she slid in her seat, bashing against the door. She turned her head and yelled again when she saw that the cause of their current distress was a teenager, his face distorted, his eyes black pools. He pulled the helicopter down onto the ground with a bump. Martha knew this was their chance. She grabbed Lionel's hand, willing herself to stop shaking as she pulled at his seatbelt. "We need to get out of here!"

"What's going on?"

She didn't get the chance to answer. Suddenly the door from the helicopter was gone and she felt herself being pulled out. She made to grab for Lionel, but his suit slipped through her fingers and the air rushed out of her as she hit the ground. Scrabbling onto her hands and knees, Martha turned, her hair pressing against her face as she struggled to see what was going on. Finally forcing her hair out of her eyes, she saw the teenager haul Lionel out, hurl him to the ground. Unthinkingly she made for him, he couldn't see, wouldn't know what was happening, she couldn't possibly leave him like that.

Her movements were graceless, the force coming from the rotator blades preventing her from getting fully to her feet, but she got there. She scanned him for injuries, but could see nothing obvious and allowed him to use her as leverage to haul himself into sitting position. She turned, looking for their attacker and saw that Clark had squared up against him. Martha cried out in horror as he sent her son flying through the air, "Clark!"

Lionel had known instantly that it was Martha who was at his side, how he knew he wasn't sure and yet even before her hands were on him, helping him up, he knew it was her. Then he heard her scream of alarm for her son, the terror in her voice and his grip on her arm tightened. He wanted to be able to see, to know what was happening, to face his assailant.

He wondered vaguely how the boy had gotten there, what was happening. He heard a crash, felt Martha jerk next to him just as the helicopter finally stopped whirring in the background. Seconds later, he realised that someone else had joined them and he felt Martha's reassuring prescence shift, move away from him as she got to her feet. "Clark, thank God," she breathed, and he could hear the relief and the tears in her voice.

"Mom, I'm alright. Honest."

"What happened?"

"I was wondering the same thing," Lionel remarked from his inelegant sprawl on the ground.

He felt Martha crouch beside him. "Are you ok?" She asked.

"Yes, I think so." He let her help him up, felt Clark at his other side, he could feel the boy's reluctance as he leant in to help steady him. "What about you? Are you hurt?" He asked hurriedly.

"No, a little shaken maybe. I hope everyday isn't going to be like this."

"Physical assault is rare amongst my staff."

"I suppose it would be rarer if you're business ventures were more scrupulous," Clark told him dryly.

"Ah, it was a disgruntled client then."

"Not exactly."

Any reply was lost to a hiss of pain, his collarbone protesting as he tried to move his arm.

"You are hurt," Martha remarked. "You'll need checked out." She looked at her son. "Where is he? That boy?"

"Uh, it's a long story."

"And one that I'm intrigued to hear," Lionel snapped back, irritated by the turn his otherwise pleasant afternoon had taken.

* * *

The door to his room clicked open. "Who's there?" Lionel asked. He'd quickly found that one of the most irritating parts of losing his sight was that others were now able to sneak up on him.

"It's Martha."

"Ah, my errant personal assistant," he teased trying to inject a tone of levity into his voice. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, I told you I was, you didn't need to force that poor doctor into checking me over."

"I felt it was better to be safe, after all I didn't see what happened. You might have been injured."

"I would have said," she assured him.

"Really, you strike me as the type who would carry on regardless."

Martha couldn't help but smile at that assessment. "I'm not sure that you know me well enough to make that assumption," she replied lightly.

"I felt it was a safe bet."

"Did you." She stepped closer to him. "How's your collarbone?"

"Broken," he told her, "but nothing that won't heal in a few weeks." He tilted his head, wishing once more that he could see her, that he could at least remember her enough that he could imagine how she might look, might carry herself just now, but there was nothing. For once he had been shortsighted, not bothering to commit her to memory. "How's your son?"

"Clark's fine," she replied smoothly.

"Good. I'm lucky he was there, surprised, but lucky."

He listened carefully, but the expression of her tone didn't change. "He'd stopped by to see Lex."

"That boy."

"Byron," Martha corrected him.

Lionel's head tilted with interest, she'd bothered to learn his name. "He had hold of the helicopter."

"He did."

"That must have taken some strength. I'm amazed that considering the damage he caused to a large, solid piece of metal that Clark escaped unscathed."

"Clark got lucky," Martha replied wryly. "Believe me, I'll be speaking to him about being more careful."

Lionel chuckled, "Teenagers do tend to think that they're indestructable...still I'm amazed."

Martha refused to react, if she did it would make him more suspicious, so instead she laughed, "Looks like all that extra work on the farm is doing wonders for him." She reached for Lionel's jacket, draping it gently over his shoulders. "About Byron, I think you should help him, perhaps cover the cost of the medical care that would help him lead a normal life."

"Luthorcorp is not a charity," Lionel told her firmly.

"No, it's a business, a business that has a lot of different fingers in a lot of different pies. Perhaps you didn't know what that one was doing, perhaps you did and you chose to overlook it, either way you have a responsibility to that boy." Martha crossed her arms across herself, standing in front of him.

"His family chose to be part of what they knew was an experimental treatment, they were aware of the risks. I am not responsible."

"Do you want me to put that direct quote in the press release?"

"That sounded very much like blackmail, Martha," Lionel remarked calmly.

"Not at all," she replied smoothly. "I'm simply stating that should his parents chose to go to the press then you will need to release a statement. I'm not going to appeal to your charitable side, Lionel, it would be a waste of time for both of us. However, even if you look at this from a financial viewpoint, this could be disastrous for your share prices, you could mitigate that."

His head tilted with interest. "What do you mean?"

"Pay for his treatment, help him live a normal life. I'm sure if you do then his parents would be williing to let this be swept under the rug. It would make more financial sense than letting your share prices plummet."

"I didn't think that you could be so ruthless."

"Lionel, don't mistake me, I'm not condoning anything that your company did to that boy, or to the other children like him, but if it's what makes you give him a chance then I'm going to try and make you see it from that angle."

"I appreciate your pragmatism."

Martha helped him to his feet, her arm slipping into his once more. "So is that a yes?"

"Yes," he chuckled, relishing the warmth of her hand. "Yes it is."

"Good, so will we get back to work?"

* * *

As the door clicked shut behind Martha, Lionel relax back into his chair, a smile playing about his lips. "Lex, I can feel your smirk from here."

"I was just thinking that if you're not careful then your new assistant could reorganise even more of your priorities."

Lionel didn't reply, but he felt the smile on his face grow. It was odd, he didn't mind that idea.

Lex looked at his father with interest. He had seen him flirt with various women, seen him manipulate others to get exactly what he wanted, but he had never seen that expression on his face. He would need to keep an eye on this.


	3. Chapter 3

Since his accident all Lionel had wanted was a reprieve from the darkness that was his constant view, and yet when he opened his eyes one morning to be assaulted by daylight, and the faint blur of colours, it made his head hurt so badly that he had no choice but to close his eyes again. He kept them closed for a moment, breathing deeply. For the last three months he had hoped against hope that his sight would return, had seen every specialist money could buy - which was a fair few - only to be told time and time again how unlikely it was. He slowly blinked his eyes open once more, a smile curling his lips as he realised that the light and the once familiar colours of his bedroom were still very much present. He shuffled carefully to the edge of his bed, fumbling for his dark glasses. As happy as he was about this sudden change, it still hurt like hell.

His collarbone protested the move, it was unfortunate he thought wryly, to not only be blind but also have one arm out of commision. He had always prided himself on being self sufficient and independent, the last few months had been determined to make a mockery of that. Lionel slid the glasses onto his face, the bright blur of the room fading to something more tolerable.

* * *

"Good morning," Martha chirped breezily as she swept into the office.

Lionel looked up, wondering for a brief moment if the blurs of colour he saw would finally merge and focus into something more solid, into a view of Martha Kent. It wasn't the first time he had wanted to see her, to truly know her face, her expressions, but it was the first time he had felt a small thrill of excitement at the thought that it might become a reality. Needless to say, that moment of blinding clarity didn't arrive, his vision stayed a frustrating blur of colour. "Good morning," he replied steadily.

He felt her round the desk, heard the now familiar thud of the coffee she had made for him every morning this week being placed in front of him, knowing that when he reached for it that the handle would be angled towards him. He could smell the slight scent of coconut on her hair. "How's your arm?" She asked him, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"The painkillers make it bearable."

"High praise indeed for modern medicine."

Lionel couldn't help but chuckle at her dry tone. "What can I say, I'm impatient."

"I had noticed. Although following medical advice and resting might help speed the healing process."

"Since when did resting on your laurels get anyone anywhere?"

"At this rate where you'll end up is an early grave." Martha bit down on the inside of her cheek the moment the words left her mouth. For a moment she had forgotten, forgotten her grief, forgotten that she was a widow and that her husband was in his grave.

Lionel heard the catch in Martha's breath, and he inched his hand slowly across the desk, bringing it to rest gently across hers. Squeezing her fingers lightly he said softly, "I don't think I ever passed on my condolences."

Martha looked down at his hand, felt the warmth of his fingers seep into her skin. It felt like years since anyone had touched her, properly touched her, and she had missed it. "You had your reasons, and anyway, you had no reason to get in touch with me." She slid her hand out from under his, remarking without rancour, "after all, we were nothing to you."

"Perhaps," he admitted. He wouldn't lie and pretend he had ever given great thought to the Kents before he had crossed paths with Martha in the garden. "But you're something now." He scowled and amended himself slightly. "You're my employee and your husband was a good man. I should have remarked on it sooner."

Martha shrugged. "Well you've done so now, and you're right Johnathan was a good man." She sighed as she made her way around the desk. "How did you get through it?" She asked suddenly. "Losing your wife I mean."

Lionel fell silent, his brow furrowing as he considered her words.

"I'm sorry," Martha remarked hurriedly, "I shouldn't have asked. I wasn't thinking."

"It's ok," he replied after another moment, slightly surprised to find it actually was, he wasn't irritated by her question, as he would have been had anyone else asked it. "Lillian and I had grown apart before her illness took hold," he admitted. "She was my wife in name, but by the time she died we had ceased to be a real couple." His mouth twisted with bitterness, unable to talk any further about his disasterous marriage, even to her. "My life didn't really change after she died."

Martha took in the way his jaw tensed, his fingers flexing fruitlessly against his desk and felt that there was more to the story than Lionel wanted to discuss, not that she could blame him for that. "I'm sure that isn't true."

He gave a one shouldered shrug. "You can't change the past. Why dwell on it."

"If it gets you through the day," she replied softly.

Lionel wished once again that he could see her face, see the nuance of expression that played across her features when she spoke. He didn't mention the improvement in his sight because if it disapeared or stayed as it was, he didn't think he could stand her pity. He didn't want her to pity him. "You seem to be coping well," he remarked.

"There's nothing else to do. Working helps." Feeling the need to change the subject, she continued, "Speaking of which, I have the report summaries for this morning."

"That was quick."

"I was up early, force of habit even with the workers having taken over on the farm."

"Are they adequate?"

"More than, thank you."

Lionel waved his hand. "No need to thank me, it's a perk of your job and so far you've more than earned it."

"It's only been two weeks," she laughed lightly.

"More than twice as long than most of my PA's. I'm a hard taskmaster."

"Perhaps the painkillers are slowing you down, making you less demanding," she teased.

Lionel couldn't help but lean forward, a smile now across his features, softening the normally formidible aura that radiated from him. "I doubt that, they're hardly doing anything for my patience."

"I don't know, you were pretty patient yesterday when you fell asleep on your sofa."

His head ducked, a chuckle escaping him. "I admit it, you were right, the whisky wasn't the best chaser for my pills."

"I knew I was right," she teased. "It's one of my best qualities."

"I'm sure you have many more."

Martha was glad that he couldn't see the pleased flush that she could feel spreading across her face at his words. She let out a shakey breath, she needed to be careful here, it was far too easy to slip into feeling comfortable around Lionel Luther. "I don't know about that," she replied. "In the meantime perhaps we should start working."

"You're right again," he replied easily. He reached for his coffee, grasping it carefully before raising it to his lips, taking a sip before telling her. "So let's make a start." Lionel leaned back as he listened to Martha's calm, soothing voice expertly describe their main challenges for the day, hiring her had been the best decision he had made in a long while he thought to himself confidently.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to those you are reading and everyone who has left a review. The next chapter will look at the episode lineage, I'm missing out bringing in William Clark for just now but he may make an appearance later on.**

* * *

Day by day Lionel's sight became clearer, and yet still he held back from letting on, to anyone. At first it had simply been a case of biding his time, of ensuring that the gradual return of his vision was going to be permenant. But then he had found keeping quiet had it's uses. It had been interesting to see how his staff acted around him when they thought that he couldn't see them. They rolled their eyes at him, grimaced, and in some cases did a half ass job on anything they thought he might not notice, leading Lionel to believe a clear out of staff was in order. If they couldn't be bothered to do the job that he paid them - rather generously - to do, then he would find someone who would. The only exception to this was Martha Kent.

She didn't roll her eyes at him, and he had attempted a couple of outragous excuses to try and bait her into doing so, but none of them had worked. Actually that wasn't entirely true, he'd caught her once and had felt his stomach start to sink in disapointment when she'd suddenly announced, "Lionel, whilst it might be considered the height of unprofessionalism, you have actually succeeded in making me roll my eyes at you. You cannot seriously think that that is a reasonable request?"

"And if I do?" He'd asked, a smile beginning to play about his lips as he realised that she was in fact calling him out.

"Well then I suggest you greatly ammend the job description for your P.A. because I don't remember seeing anywhere in mine that I had to pick out the orange m&m's for you."

"I can't do it myself."

"Why would you need to?"

"They taste different," he lied easily. "And I notice it more now."

"They don't," she assured him.

"So you're not going to do it?"

"Well that depends, would you rather be orange m&m free or have those contracts finished?"

"I think you could do both," he teased.

"Is there a reason for this sudden increase in odd demands?" She asked. "Or is it all just a test?"

"A test?" he echoed, trying to sound innocent. "You think I would test you?"

"Yes," she laughed. "I think you would."

He placed his hand across his chest. "You wound me."

"I somehow think that would be much harder to do."

Lionel smiled at the memory, of the sound of Martha's laughter. At her honesty, her ability to call him out, to stand up to him, he admired it. Lillian had been like that at first, she had challenged him, and then she had stopped, for a variety of reasons, her ill health among them, and it had been another nail in the coffin of their marriage. He pushed away the memory of his wife, he didn't want to think about her, about the bitter disapointment his marriage became. Instead he thought of Martha.

His first vision of her had been the colour of her hair as she had leaned over his shoulder, he had been able to make out the exact shade of red, the rest of her features still unfocussed and blurry. He'd wondered momentarily what it would feel like, flowing through his fingers as he tilted her face upwards. She was suprisingly petite, even in her heels the top of her head didn't sit level with his eyes, he had always thought she was taller.

It was her figure he had noticed next, the curves of her, she was like a pocket venus he thought vaguely.

Finally there had been the day he had finally seen her features, the pale albastar of her skin, the angle of her cheekbones, the sparkle of her blue eyes and the wonder that was her smile. Why he had never noticed her before know, he really wasn't sure.

Once he had wondered if he found her so attractive because he had been starved of his sight and as a result starved of the usual women who swarmed around him, hoping for just a taste of his lavish lifestyle. That thought had quickly died, it didn't matter what other women crossed his path, they didn't compare to her. He wanted her, desperately.

Lionel sucked in a deep breath between his teeth, his jaw tense, he had never lusted after a woman and not had her almost immediately, they all bowed easily to his will. Somehow he wasn't sure that Martha would be so easy to seduce, he wasn't even sure how best he should even go about it.

His fingers drifted automatically across the paino keys as he thought, his musings then interupted by the woman he was obsessing about. She swept gracefully and quietly into the room, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear as she walked. He automatically stopped playing, watching her subtly.

Martha looked up. "You didn't have to stop, I just came in to tidy up and say goodnight."

"I wouldn't want to appear rude."

She smiled. "I would never have thought that would bother you."

"I'm trying to see the error of my ways."

Her eyebrow quriked. "Why am I not convinced by that statement?"

He chuckled, "Possibly because you're a realist. Much more than I had expected."

"What did you expect?"

Lionel shrugged. "You to be quiet, submissive, a romantic," he admitted.

"Not sure how I would potray the last one at work, short of wafting around in some sort of negligee and quoting romance novels," she remarked dryly.

That drew another laugh from him. "Well you certainly aren't the first two."

"No, I don't think I've ever been excused of being either of those things." She slid a few files into his desk drawer, locking it afterwards. "What were you playing?"

"A piece by Sergei Rachmaninoff, well a rather clumsy version of it," he admitted. "Do you play?"

"Oh no, I'm tone deaf," Martha told him honestly.

"I don't believe that."

"If you heard me sing along to the radio you would," she quipped. "I took lessons once, but I could never get the hang of it," she told him.

"You probably just needed a better teacher. It's never too late to learn."

"That's what they say, but I think my time for that may have passed. It's lovely to listen to though." She moved closer to him, and even without turning he could feel her presence just behind his right shoulder.

Lionel shuffled slightly down the piano stool and patted the empty space next to him, feeling a sense of pride when she sat down, her shoulder brushing his. "If I can learn, anyone can." He played a few notes easily. "I could teach you."

"How?"

"Easily, I taught Lex for a while."

"It amazes me how well you play, even now," she told him plainly.

He smiled at how she never shirked away from the issue of his sight, not once had she danced uncomfortably around it, she took it in her stride, as she did with everything else. "You get used to the keys after a while." Lionel slipped his hand over hers and brought it the keys, pressing his thumb lightly down on one. "Middle C," he informed her. "Everything stems out from here, it's the easiest place to begin from. Do you remember your notes?"

"Mostly," Martha replied, feeling her heart rate pick up a notch at his touch.

"Well we can come back to them, but first how to move your hands." He wanted to look up and watch her face, but he knew that he couldn't, he would become enraptured and give the game away, and if he went through this first then he could continue to touch her, even if it was just her hand. "You need to be able to move up and down the keys, it will help you later, you can't be watching your hands the whole time."

"Easier said than done."

"It simply takes practice." He played a few notes with her fingers beneath his, before tapping her thumb and telling her, "sweep it under to the next note. Just remember 1-2-3 sweep,1-2-3-4 sweep, and repeat. When you get up here, you don't sweep, just play it out. If you practice that it will make it easier not to look at your hands."

"Right." She knew she sounded breathless, he was so close, his arm around her so that he could guide her right hand across the keys. She could smell his cologne, it was subtle, masculine and probably incredibly expensive.

"If you want you can practice in here, whenever you like."

"That's very generous of you."

"Not a sentence I often hear." He risked a glance at her face and saw the flush of pink across her neck and cheeks, the slightly quicker rise and fall of her chest and he felt his groin tighten at the sight of her.

"I think it's sometimes something you actively go out of your way to avoid."

"Perhaps, you can't get to where I am by showing weakness."

Martha turned her face towards his. "Generosity isn't weakness," she told him quietly.

Lionel stuggled to keep up his act, trying not to scan her face and commit every nuance of her expressions to memory. "It can be exploited, so it's the same thing."

Her hands slipped out from under his. "I can't ever imagine thinking that way."

"You don't have to."

"No, and I'm glad for it."

"You wouldn't want all of this?" He asked cynically, sweeping his hand across the vast room with it's extravagent furnishing.

"No," she told him honestly. She had walked away from a comfortable lifestyle - albeit it not as luxurious as this - for love, and she had never regretted it, she had mourned the abscence of her father from her life, but she'd always known she would have regretted walking away from Jonathan more.

"I think you might be the only person who's said that, that I actually believe."

"There's more to life than money and power, Lionel," she told him softly, her hand brushing his shoulder, coming to rest at his elbow.

"Said by someone who has neither." There was no malice in his tone as he said it, and yet he regretted the words the moment they were out of his mouth.

Martha sighed. "Perhaps, but I wonder which of us is happier."

She went to pull away and he caught her wrist, his other hand coming up to brush her cheek. He felt her shiver at his touch. "Are you happy?"

"I...I was," she told him. "And I will be again."

"I hope so. You deserve it," he whispered, meaning every word. Unthinkingly he pulled her closer, her free hand pressing against his shoulder, as she steadied herself, her fingers curling into the material of his shirt.

"Lionel..." Martha murmured, unsure if she wanted him to stop or continue.

His lips brushed hers and she felt herself relax into him, kissing him back, her mouth opening under his.

His thumb stroked her cheekbone, his fingers curling into her hair, tilting her face to his as he'd imagined doing so many times before, but it surpassed everyone of his idle thoughts.

After a few moments, Martha broke away, breathing heavily. She didn't want to look at him, afraid she would melt back into him again, she could still feel the thrill of having him pressed against her. "We shouldn't," she told him. "I work for you." She didn't wait for him to reply, clambouring clumsily to her feet. "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight Lionel."

"Goodnight," he replied, his voice slightly raspy. He watched her go, flustered, her hair deliciously mused. He had wondered if that kiss would dispell him of the desperate notion he had to posess Martha Kent, instead it just made him want her all the more.


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter ran away with itself, so most of the episode Lineage will be in the next installement. Thanks for the reviews, hope you enjoy and thoughts are alway welcome.  
**

* * *

The house was in darkness when Martha arrived home and as she crept up the stairs, she could hear Clark's soft snores floating out of his bedroom. Tiptoing to the ajar door, she peeked through and smiled at her sleeping son, it was still relatively early but she knew how exhausted he was from all the extra work he had been taking on. A soft smile curved Martha's lips, he was such a wonderful boy, he had brought so much joy into her life and she couldn't imagine her world without him in it. She itched to smooth his ruffled hair off his forehead, just as she'd done when he had been little, but she knew he would wake up if she tried it. So instead she turned, closing the door gently and headed down the hallway to her own bedroom.

Sitting on her bed, Martha kicked her shoes off, sending them skiffing across the slightly threadworn carpet with a muffled thud, she really needed to replace that at somepoint, but then it was hardly a priority. Her eyes connected with the picture on her nightstand of herself and Jonathan. Reaching across she picked it up and felt her eyes start to water, her jaw tightening as she tried not to burst into tears. They had been so happy, it had never mattered that some parts of the house had seen better days, that Jonathan had ached at the end of everyday from all the heavy work he'd done and that if it wasn't for their ailien son and his abilities, they may have went under years before. She let out a shaky breath, with hindsight she wished that things had been slightly easier, that they had spent slightly less time having to work and more time enjoying their time together, without the looming spectre of the farm. It wasn't enough for her to regret her life, but she was now slightly resentful of the farm, of the constant stream of work that never seemed to abate, the way it had cut into their lives. She wished they had had that time, but then she supposed that even if they'd had it, she would find something else to lament. There would never have been enough time together.

Martha looked at her husband's smile, she remembered that day so clearly and yet sometimes she was afraid of forgetting him, forgetting his goodness, the deep timber of his laugh, the strength of his calm guidance, and his touch. She put the frame carefully back into place, the guilt creeping over her. How could she have been so stupid? To allow herself to fall into the arms of Lionel Luthor was the height of foolishness. Never mind that he was the one man that her husband couldn't stand, that he had critisized without restraint, he was also her goddamn boss! What had she been thinking? Well, she hadn't been, clearly. She had allowed herself to be swept along in the moment, even now she couldn't quite explain why she had so easily moved towards him, why she had kissed him back.

The last few weeks she had seen a different side to Lionel Luthor, she had seen that shred of vulnarability that ran through him. She wasn't foolish enough to think that she could change him, that all he needed was love and understanding and he would miraculously become a different man, a better man. But, he could be kind, and he was clever, his wit sharp, almost scathing at times and he made her laugh. That she found him strangely attractive didn't help her either. Martha dropped onto her pillows with a deep sigh, apparantly at the age of forty-two she was back into the badboy phase. The guilt constricted her chest again, it had been 5 months since Jonathan's death, and already she was thrown for a loop by another man, his sworn enemy for that matter. Not that Lionel would have held Jonathan in the same regard, she doubted that he gave them any thought after he'd got what he'd wanted from them. How could she let herself fall into the arms of that man?

Because she was lonely and that man was showing her affection, she reminded herself. She loved Jonathan, that would never change, and she would be mortified if anyone ever discovered what she had done, but surely she could move on from it, surely Jonathan would forgive her that momentary slip. Martha took in a deep, shaky breath, surely it wasn't the worst thing to crave human affection, no matter the source. Actually on second thought if Jonathan had seen that then she could probably expect a lightening bolt to be along in a moment, or more likely, Lionel could.

Suddenly an inexplainable rush of irrational rage swept over her. She wished fervantly that Johnathan was here, that she could scream at him for leaving her, for running out of that cellar, for having to always take action without thinking it through. He was gone, leaving her with a farm she hadn't been able to run without him, with mounting bills and a ramshackle farmhouse with no means to make anything better. One bloody week! He'd missed his insurance payment for one week, no doubt thinking he could pick it up again with no issues, that it wouldn't matter. It was all his fault, she thought wildly, he couldn't possibly be irritated with her because she needed that job, and she had no choice about taking it. She could work three jobs elsewhere and not come close to that pay packet, never mind being able to afford help on the farm, so wherever Jonathan was he could lump it, was a moment of sheer stupidity and God knows she should be allowed it given everything she had been through.

Martha closed her eyes, her brow furrowing as she thought through her options, she could quit but then that felt like an odd overreaction, and she did need the job. No, she would better brazening through it. She had no doubt that Lionel was mortified at her slip, that he was sitting wondering just how to let the frumpy little farmwife down gently. She had seen the women who graced his bedroom - not literally - they were glamourous, their hair and nails immaculate, their clothing expensive and she had no doubt they fawned over him. Well he could rest easy, when she saw him tomorrow she would either pretend that this had never happened or put his mind at rest that she wouldn't be throwing herself at him again.

* * *

"Clark, get a move on!" Martha scolded her son as she watched him rush clumsily down the stairs.

She pressed a slice of toast into his hand, causing him to grin as he said, "Thanks, I didn't realise the time."

Rolling her eyes good naturedly, she told him, "I can't believe you can be as quick as a flash and as slow as molasses all at the same time."

"It's a skill."

"Do you want a lift?"

"Nah." He hauled his jacket on as he crammed his toast into his mouth, telling her through a mouthful of crumbs, "I don't want to make you late, you go ahead."

"I will, but make sure you get yourself to school," she warned him.

"Will do."

Martha smiled as she ran out to the truck, relieved as always when it started on the first try. Her mind too busy running through if and how she was going to broach last night with Lionel to notice the red-headed woman standing in the shadows of the barn.

* * *

Lionel hadn't slept well, he'd spent long spells imagining Martha Kent and what she would be like in his bed. He'd wondered if her skin was as pale and perfect everywhere, if she was as fiery in bed as she could be in the office. His mind had ran away with itself as he'd thought about her under him, over him, as he ran his hands and mouth across her. Would she moan? Or it would it be breathy gasps? He took a deep breath, he couldn't think about this again, she was due in any minute and if he didn't get a hold of himself then it could lead to a rather awkward moment.

His office door opened and Martha stepped through, her head bowed and he could already see the faint blush creeping across her face, he wondered if she always coloured so easily. "Good morning," she greeted him after a moment.

"Martha, how are you this morning?"

"I'm fine," she replied after a moment, her voice slightly strained, and he could see her fingers knot together somewhat anxiously. "You?"

"As well as ever."

"Good," she muttered distractedly. Did she mention it or not? She hadn't missed this part of being single, that awkwardness that could tinge so many moments.

The decision was made for her as he decided to put her out of her misery. "About last night," he started calmly, watching carefully behind his darkened lenses as she winced at his words. He would need to manage this carefully, he didn't want her to leave her role here and he could sense her nerves and her tension.

"It shouldn't have happened," she told him quickly. "It was a moment of foolishness and it won't happen again, you don't need to worry."

"I wasn't," he admitted. "I just wanted to ensure that you weren't"

"More embarrassed, it was hardly professional behaviour."

"From either of us." Perhaps it would be best to play the long game, he thought casually. If he pressed ahead she was likely to bolt, he could see it in her. Lionel didn't doubt that she had spent last night in a maelstrom of guilt, concerned that she would be judged for moving on so quickly. It was fine, he was willing to wait for her. "You have my apologies."

"You don't need to apologise."

Lionel got to his feet, grabbing his stick as he made to move closer to her with just the right amount of slow awkwardness that would be expected of him. "I do, I'm your employer, I should never have taken advantage."

"You didn't," she assured him, her voice slightly tight.

"We've both been through large changes in our lives, had to make adjustments, these things happen."

"Yes," her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. "They do. Although I'm not used to them."

He chuckled. "Yes I suppose I would have the monopoly on making spur of the moment romantic overtures."

Martha raised her eyebrow, the hint of a smile suddenly on her features. "Are you trying to say you come on to all your staff? Is that why I had to sign a non disclosure," she teased.

"Hmph," he made a noise of amusement. "I can assure you I don't make a habit out of this"

"Habit, so it has happened before?"

Lionel silently cursed himself for his choice of words. He should dimiss it, deny it and yet there was something about her that loosened his tongue, she had a dangerous effect on him, and yet still he couldn't bring himself to pull away. "Once," he admitted. "It was a mistake." He wanted to reach for her, to touch her arm or hand but could see no way of doing it without giving himself away.

"Well you don't need to worry about repeating it," she told him.

"Do you regret it?" he asked quietly, inclining his head towards hers. She shivered at his closeness and he felt gratified to see the effect he clearly had on her.

"Regret is a strong word," she admitted. "It shouldn't have happened though."

"I don't regret it," he told her firmly, seeing her eyes widen as she looked up at him and he forced himself to avert his gaze. "We both needed comfort, people have done a lot worse. I don't meant to make you uncomfortable, I have no intention of forcing this further, I just want to reassure you. You have no need to be embarrassed, or worried in anyway about your position here."

"Thank you, that's a relief." She gave a soft sigh, "So shall we get back to work? After all that's what you pay me for."

"It is, and I do like to get my money's worth."

Lionel let her slip her arm through his and lead him to his chair, he should really let her know that he could see, everytime he misled her he was starting to feel a slight tinge of...surely not remorse? Lionel Luthor didn't do remorse.


	6. Chapter 6

**Again this chapter ran away with itself.**

* * *

Martha ran a harried hand through her hair as she rushed into the kitchen that evening, trying to remember what she had taken out of the freezer for dinner that morning. Had she taken something out the freezer? She glanced at Clark who was sitting at the kitchen table, his chin resting on his hands. "I hope you've finished your homework if you're taking the time to sit around."

"Haven't started it yet," he admitted, his face creased in a worried frown.

Martha paused, closing the fridge door before she had even looked to see what, if anything, she had available for dinner and turned to examine her son. She pressed her hand against his cool forehead and asked in concern. "Are you ok?"

"Not sure," Clark admitted. "This woman turned up at school today and said she was my real mother." He looked up at his Mom, as he picked distractedly at the skin around his fingernails.

At his words, Martha felt her blood run cold, her stomach lurching uncomfortably. She had never thought she would face this, she had considered it but then dismissed it, telling herself that if Clark's birth parents had sent him hurtling through space in a spaceship then clearly they were in no place to come and claim him back. "I...right." She swallowed heavily as she hauled out the seat next to him and sat down. "Was she..."

"Human?" Clark supplied helpfully.

Martha managed a small smile. "Yes. Seems odd to dance around the issue, but then I didn't expect this."

"Neither did I, and yeah, she's human. Says she gave me to the adoption agency, that she didn't want to and she wants to get to know me."

It was awful but she felt relief flood through her, she wasn't going to lose her son, this woman must have it wrong. "Then you know that she can't be-"

"Yeah," he interupted. "I know, but she was pretty insistent, said I just needed to get used to the idea. She said that Metropolis United Charities handled her son's adoption, and that's who handled mine. You and Dad said that I was the only adoption that they cleared."

Martha's features settled into a frown. "That's what I thought."

Clark studied her carefully for a moment before telling her, "She's going to be pretty hard to avoid, she's bought a house in the area." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "She gave me her number to give to you, she wants to meet you, to talk to you."

"Ok." She took the paper from him, squeezing his fingers reassuringly. "I'll deal with this," she told him. "Try not to worry about it." She forced herself to smile. "Now, go and do your homework, I'll arrange to meet her tomorrow and I'll put on some dinner."

"Yeah." Clark relaxed slightly. "Thanks Mom."

"That's why I'm here."

She watched him go, and stared at the phone number for a few moments, she and Jonathan had never told Clark just who had arranged his adoption and provided them with the required paperwork, Jonathan had always be so insistant that Clark didn't know, that he never feel that he was beholden to the Luthor's. Martha sighed and rubbed at her forehead, perhaps it was time to talk to Clark, to tell him just what had happened that day, she didn't think he would have the same complex that Jonathan had about the Luthor's, she certainly didn't. She could understand why Jonathan had been so bitter about what Lionel had done, but she was more used to his type and knew that he was a business man, if he could twist something to his benefit then he would do it.

Her head ached. Panicking, Jonathan had rushed ahead and advised the Ross's to sell to Lonel before he had spoken to her. It was sweet how he'd wanted to protect her, not wanted her to worry that the little boy she'd loved and adored on sight might not be theirs, but if he'd told her then she would have assured him that Lionel wouldn't want to draw attention to his own dubious part in securing Clark's adoption. Afterwards, when she had wrangled out of him what had happened, when he was mired in guilt at letting Lionel get his foot in the door of Smallville, she hadn't the heart to tell him that it had all been avoidable. Lionel had seen a weakness in Jonathan and exploited it.

That didn't matter now though, what mattered was Clark, and not allowing this woman to start asking questions about his origin. She wouldn't lose her son, not to anyone.

* * *

"Mrs Kent?"

Martha looked up from her coffee into the eager but anxious face of Rachel Dunleavy, and took the proffered hand, shaking it politely. "Ms Dunleavy, please sit down." She waved her hand at the stool across from her.

"Thank you." Martha saw her shoulders relax slightly and in that moment she wished fervently that Jonathan was here. He would have stayed calm, whilst her nerves were frazzled. She had barely slept, again, worrying about what this women would say. She was drawn back to the present moment by Rachel twittering anxiously, "I'm sure you're wondering what I'm doing here, thinking that I have no right to turn up after all these years, after giving up my son."

"I'll admit the thought did occur to me." How could it not? She had desperately wanted a child and she couldn't imagine having one and giving then away.

"I don't blame you for that," Rachel sighed. "But you have to understand that I didn't want to give away my son, I had no choice."

Leaning forward, Martha met the other woman's gaze. "I'm sure you had your reasons, and I can understand how desperate you must feel about finding your son, and how much trouble you must have went through to find Clark, but I have to tell you that there has been a misunderstanding, Clark isn't your child, you have to understand that."

Rachel Dunleavy gave a somewhat eerily blank smile, as though Martha's words had bypassed her completely, shaking her head as she told her, "I've done my research, my Lucas was the only baby turned over to Metropolis United Charities and Clark was the only child that they ever placed."

Martha tried again, taking a different stance this time. "My husband and I raised Clark, we are his legal parents."

"I understand that," Rachel told her. "I just want a chance to know him, giving up Lucas was the worst thing I've ever done, I didn't do it because I wanted to, I did it because I had to." Her tone had changed, from benign to desperate.

"And if Clark was your son, then perhaps things would have been different, but he isn't," she replied firmly. "I sincerely hope that one day you do find Lucas, but you've made a mistake."

"No, no." Rachel made to grab her hand, and Martha gently pulled away from her. "He is Lucas, he has to be."

"He isn't." Martha got to her feet. "I wish you all the best, Ms Dunleavy, but please don't contact Clark again."

Martha felt awful as she walked out the cafe, Rachel Dunleavy had looked as though she had slapped her. Part of her wanted to stay, to try and make her see it wasn't possible, but the woman wouldn't listen. She supposed that she could understand the desperation, that need to find your child, to know what had happened to them but she didn't think talking to her would change her mind. She sighed, a frown crossing her features, she hoped that she would let it drop, but she had a feeling she hadn't heard the last of this.

* * *

"You've been distracted this morning," Lionel announced.

"What makes you say that?"

"The fact that I've asked you the same question three times and you haven't noticed," he remarked dryly.

"Ah." Martha flushed guiltily, "I'm sorry, my mind is elsewhere."

"Anywhere pleasant?"

"Not really," she admitted.

"Anything I can help with?"

Martha considered her options for a moment before replying, "Perhaps, it's about Clark."

Lionel gave a chuckle. "I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask about teenage boys, I barely handled Lex, as I'm sure he tells everyone who will listen."

"It wasn't for parenting advice," she assured him dryly. "It was about Clark's adoption."

His features slid into a frown. "What about it?" He honestly hadn't given it a thought since buying the Ross farm all those years ago.

"I thought that his was the only adoption you handled."

"It was, that subset of the charity was set up solely to facilitate his adoption procedure."

"That's what I thought, but a woman has turned up claiming to be Clark's mother." Martha watched Lionel carefully as she continued, "A Rachel Dunleavy."

Lionel could see Martha watching him, but even so he couldn't help his eyes from widening a fraction at the name. "Is Clark aware of her claims?"

"As she approached him first, yes he is."

"And what was his reaction?"

"He was confused, understandably so, but he has accepted that she can't be his Mother." Martha's eyes narrowed as she calmly stated, "He isn't the only one who's confused. Rachel Dunleavy claims that she handed her son over to Metropolis United Charities, which means that Clark can't be her son and yet you've just confirmed that only Clark was adopted out by your charity."

Lionel got to his feet, leaning on the palms of his hands, his voice firm and calm as he replied, "As a favour to your husband, to conceal the fact that you found an abandoned child and failed to report it to the authorities."

Martha had the grace to blush at his words, the colour spreading across her cheekbones, although her stare and voice remained resolute. "Clark would have spent years in foster care, we didn't want that for him. Legally we were in the wrong, but morally I don't regret our decision. And I think you'll find that you were repaying a favour, not that it stopped you from extracting your pound of flesh."

His lips twitched with the beginings of an incredulous smile, he hadn't expected her to be so firm, rather he had thought that she would shrink back, mutter some excuses and be disuaded from the subject. "I'm a business man, I saw an opportunity and I took it," he replied unappologetically. "Everyone got what they wanted from the arrangement."

"So what happened to the child Rachel Dunleavy claims she handed over?"

"Not your concern."

"Given that she has involved my son, I think you'll find it is. And your reluctance to talk about it is hardly reassuring."

Lionel couldn't help but chuckle at her words, Martha Kent irritated was a sight to behold, her skin flushed, blue eyes flashing. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"No, and I'm amazed that you expect me to."

He sighed. "The child Rachel Dunleavy thinks was adopted through the charity was placed into the system."

Confusion flashed across Martha's feature. "Why?"

"Because while Clark's adoption merely involved pulling some strings to obtain the paperwork, this child would have required a full adoption placing, even I couldn't pull that off without attracting some scrutiny." He held his hands out in a suplicating manner, as he added, "Then later when Clark was to be adopted out, it meant that the numbers were balanced, one child in and one child out."

"So basically Jonathan and I finding Clark was the gift that kept on giving for you."

"I wouldn't have put it quite like that."

"So," Martha eyed Lionel carefully. "Why would you take in a child you couldn't place? I somehow doubt that it was down to the goodness of your heart."

"I don't need to have this discussion with an employee."

"You're right," Martha agreed. "But I won't work for a man who I believe is putting my family at risk."

"I don't appreciate empty threats."

"And I don't make them. I'll have my resignation on your desk by the end of the day, I'm assuming you'll want it to be effective immediately?"

"Martha..." Lionel growled warningly. She ignored him, turning towards the door and he realised that she wasn't bluffing, that she wasn't going to back down and he suddenly found himself desperate to make her stay. "Fine!" He snapped. "I knew Rachel Dunleavy, she was Lillian's nurse."

Martha stopped and turned, taking a few steps back towards him as she put the last of the pieces together. "And you had an affair," she stated.

"Yes. It was brief and Rachel decided to leave after it ended."

"Decided to?"

"Yes," Lionel confirmed. "Although I'll admit that I was relieved, I hadn't thought she would take the end of relationship as well as she did. She turned up over two years later with a child she claiimed was my son, demanding that I leave Lillian and marry her."

"I imagine that went down like a ton of bricks."

"She turned out to be rather troubled," he continued as though she hadn't spoken. "After much negotiation she turned the child over to me and agreed to seek treatment in a residential care facility. I funded it of course, but didn't remain involved in her care. I haven't heard anything from or about her since then."

"And the baby?"

"I couldn't risk Lillian finding out about him. She was still very weak and I had done enough damage, so I did what I had to do."

Martha winced at his words. "Do you regret it?"

"I try not to think about it," he admitted. "There was no other option, none that I could see."

Suddenly feeling exhausted, Martha pressed her fingetips against her forehead. "If that's the case then can you not just put Rachel Dunleavy on the right path?"

"I don't think that's wise. Anyway, she has no rights to Clark."

"Not my point," Martha snapped. "You've told me that this woman is mentally unstable, and she is determined to involve herself with my son's life." She levelled a finger at him. "You need to fix this."

"I don't take well to be ordered about and especially by a personal assistant waving her finger," he warned her unthinkingly.

Martha dropped her hand as her eyes widened. "You can see," she stated.

Lionel cursed under his breath. "I can hardly deny it, can I?"

"No. How long?" She asked bitingly.

"My sight gradually came back over a few weeks ago."

"And you can see normally?"

"Yes."

"So you've been pretending to be blind." Martha felt her blood boil. "Why?"

"I wasn't sure if it would continue to improve or if it would even be a permenant improvement. I was biding my time." He took his glasses off and managed a quirk of a smile. "It did have it's benefits, it's amaxing what people will do when they think their boss can't see them."

"You never cease to amaze me, and that isn't a compliment."

"I assumed," he replied smoothly. "But I can assure you that involving myself in this situation with Rachel Dunleavy will not make anything better."

Martha wanted to scream at him, instead she took in a deep breath and considered her options carefully. She supposed that she could see why Lionel had hiden the return of his sight at first, that wasn't her main concern, her main concern was Clark. "If she approaches you-"

"I will make it clear that Clark isn't the boy she's looking for. Although for obvious reasons I would appreciate if you would keep what I've told you quiet."

"As you pointed out I'm an employee, I do as I'm told." Her back straightened and she met his gaze. "I'll make you an appointment with the specialist, they can confirm whether the return of your sight is permenant." She turned on her heel to leave as she added dryly, "I draw the line at working for a man who's pretending he's blind." She would have drawn the line a while back if she didn't need this job so badly.

"Very well." Lionel watched her go, his eyes dropping to the sway of her hips. He would be better cutting Martha Kent loose, but it would appear that the challenge if having her was more tempting than the lure of common sense.


	7. Chapter 7

**I did try to reply to your lovely reviews but there was a technical issue. This chapter is a tad jumpy but I wanted to be able to move onto the next part so kind of crammed it into the one chapter.**

 **As always would love to know your thoughts.**

* * *

Martha shut the truck door and heard the familar woosh of Clark's sudden appearance next to her, without looking up she asked, "Can you give me a hands taking these bags inside?"

"Why was Lionel Luthor involved in my adoption?"

Sighing, Martha felt her shoulders drop at the question, she should have known that Clark would discover that piece of information sooner rather than later, he was best friends with Chloe Sullivan after all. "Can we talk about this inside?"

"I want to know what's going on!" he told her mullishly.

"And I'll tell you, but at least grab a bag."

Never one to do things by half, he lifted all three bags and disappeared into the house, leaving a small trail of dust and dirt circling in the air where he had previously stood. Martha followed him in at a more leisurely pace, unsurprised to find that Clark had also put away every bit of shopping and was standing in the kitchen with his arms crossed, glaring at her. "So, are you finally going to tell me the truth?"

"We never lied to you Clark,it's just the full story was...complicated."

"Well we have time."

Martha nodded, and with a deep breath started her story. "You know everything about how we found you, but we what we never explained was the chaos the meotors caused. There was absolute mayhem across the entire town. I persuaded your father not to phone the police straight away and report that we had found you, I knew that they would also find the ship and I didn't want to think about what that would mean for you." She reached up and patted his cheek, a soft smile gracing her features as she told him, "You were everything I had wished for for so long and suddenly in the midst of all this horror was you, the most perfect little boy. I admit that I played on that instant rush of love I had for you to persuade your father to hide the spaceship."

"So where does Lionel Luthor feature in this?"

"I'm getting there," she reassured him. "As we were driving back to the farm, Lionel ran out into the road, Lex had been badly injured in the strike and Lionel was...shellshocked." Martha's brow creased and she shook her head. "I'm sure it's difficult for you to picture it, but I believe he was truly distraught about what had happened and he begged your father to help him, it was obvious that even Lionel Luthor would struggle to get anyone else in time to save Lex."

"So Dad helped him?"

"Of course, we had covered the ship so he couldn't see it and we drove him to the hospital, despite the obvious risks. How could we do anything else?"

"You couldn't."

"No, and we didn't consider not helping for one second, but that's how we met Lionel Luthor. Later, he said that he owed your father a debt and if we ever needed anything then we should get in touch."

"So Dad was a hero?"

"He was but-"

There was a knock at the door, distracting Martha from the rest of her tale, she glanced at Clark before opening the door to reveal Sheriff Ethan. He gave them an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry to disturb you all."

"It's not a problem, how can we help you?"

Sheriff Ethan took his hat off and scratched awkwardly at his forehead before finally replying, "It's ah, Rachel Dunleavy, she's applied for a court order for a DNA test for Clark."

"What? That's ridiculous," Martha exclaimed.

He shrugged. "Well it's been approved." He handed her the order. "I'm sorry Martha, really I am, but if she isn't his mother then she'll go away soon enough. I'll be round in the morning with the doctor to take the sample."

Martha's lips pulled tightly together as she glanced at the document, it appeared she had underestimated Ms Dunleavy. "We'll see you then Ethan," she replied after a moment.

"Yeah...uhm you both have a good night," he murmured, making hastily for the door.

Clark waited until the sound of tyres had disappeared down the drive before asking, "So what are we going to do?"

"We don't have much choice, you're going to have to give the sample."

"Yeah, but do I even have DNA?"

"I don't know," Martha admitted. "Which is why you're going to have to get it back."

"How?"

Martha looked at him, remarking with some humour, "I would imagine how you normally get into places you shouldn't be anywhere near."

"You're actually giving me permission for that!"

"I think given the circumstances we don't have much of a choice."

"I suppose not." He gave her a cocky grin. "Pretty sure I can manage it."

"I know you can, but at least try for some modesty," she laughed.

"I'll try. So..." he looked at his Mom meaningfully, "The rest of the story?"

Martha's smile faded. "Yeah, you deserve the truth. We took you home and hid the ship, but your father wanted to report that we had found you."

"And you didn't?"

"No," she admitted. "I didn't want to risk losing you. We were still debating it when Ethan arrived, he had seen the truck in the middle of the road, where we had abandoned it and had come to check that we were ok. I took you into another room and tried to keep you quiet, but you got away from me, and when he saw you I had to think on my feet. So I told him that we had picked you up from the adoption agency earlier that day, and once the words were out I couldn't take them back. Not that I ever wanted to, you were the only good thing to come out of that day and I couldn't give you up."

"So you called in the favour Lionel Luthor owed you," Clark guessed.

"We did, we told him that we'd found you abandoned at the side of the road just before the strike. He put the adoption through quickly and didn't ask any questions past that, at first it appeared to be the perfect solution." Martha gave a soft sigh and shook her head. "But what we didn't know was that the Ross' were on the verge of pulling out of their sale with Lionel. So the day he arrived with the papers, he suggested to your Father that he might want to speak to them, convince them of his offer."

Clark's eyes narrowed in confusion. "But why did he do it?"

"Because Lionel made a vague hint about the manner of your adoption, about not wanting anyone to look too closely at the paperwork."

"He threatened Dad?"

"I think that's what he felt at the time, so of course he went straight to the Ross farm and convinced them to sell up."

"I don't know how you can stand to work for that man!" Clark snapped.

Martha leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Lionel is a business man, he saw an opportunity and he took advantage of it. I honestly don't think that he would have followed through with his implied threat, he would have had too much to lose."

"So you're blaming Dad!"

"No," she replied firmly. "But the world isn't black and white, he wasn't used to men like Lionel, to how they worked, it was one of the reasons I fell in love with him, because of how good he was." She took a step forward and pressed her hand against Clark's forearm. "I know Lionel has many faults, but I can't hate him, he helped me keep you and at this point in time, whether you like it or not it's the job he's given me that's keeping this farm afloat and food on our table."

"I just wish it wasn't him." Clark scowled for a moment and then sighed, his features relaxing slightly. "I suppose that it's not the most important thing right now though. I'll go phone Pete, get him on board for tomorrow." He looked back at his Mom and managed a smile, "Thanks for telling me the truth...finally."

"We never wanted to lie to you, we were just trying to protect you."

"Yeah, I know, but you don't need to do that anymore."

"Oh Clark, I'm your Mom, it's my job."

He managed a laugh, giving her a tight hug before turning to leave the room. Martha watched him go, she would go to the ends of the earth for her boy, no matter who that out her up against.

* * *

Lionel removed his dark glasses as Martha stepped into his office. "I hear that the DNA came back with the desired result."

"Was there ever any doubt that it wouldn't?" She asked, arching one eyebrow as she continued, "And how do you know about that?"

Lionel chuckled, a sound that sent the oddest feeling down Martha's spine. "I think we are the only two people who knew with certainty just how the test results were going to turn out." He leaned back in his chair. "And Rachel Dunleavy paid me a visit when she heard the news."

"I thought you said she wouldn't turn up here."

"That's what I truly thought, to say I was surprised when security informed me of her arrival is something of an understatement."

"What did she want?"

"She accused me of tampering with the results, of wanting to hide the truth." He shook his head.

Martha's face creased into a worried frown. "I had hoped that the DNA test would be an end to this."

"Yes, I had the same hope," Lionel admitted. "I tried to persuade her that she needed help, but she ran out of here." He glanced up at Martha's worried face and felt what was almost reminiscent of concern momentarily rush through him. "I can understand if you want to go home, to see Clark."

"Clark's at school, and if she believes that he's her son then she won't risk hurting him. All she wants is her son."

"Then she'll target one of us," he pointed out, almost feeling guilty that he had dragged Martha Kent into this mess. It was an odd sensation and not one he was familiar with. He didn't think he wanted to be familiar with it either.

"I can see why she might target you, force a confession but I don't see why she would come after me."

"Because you're Clark's only legal guardian," Lionel told her. "You can block her access at every turn, even if I was to suddenly announce that Clark was my son."

"I didn't think about that," Martha admitted. "But I think she would be reluctant to go that far, after all it would hardly endear Clark to her."

"No, but then you're assuming that she's mentally competent, and I can asssure you that she isn't."

"You have such wonderful taste in women," she remarked dryly.

"So I've been told," came the easy reply, although he personally thought it was improving.

"I suppose there isn't much we can do at the moment," Martha remarked after a moment. "If she continues to try and contact Clark even after the DNA results then I can take the legal route to stop her."

"Yes, I'll fund it of course."

"You don't have to, we would manage."

"Of that I have no doubt, but I do have some blame to take in this situation," Lionel admitted.

"I never thought I would see the day that Lionel Luthor made an admission of guilt."

"I wouldn't expect it to happen again."

Martha gave a soft laugh. "I'll keep that in mind." She took a seat across from him. " Now, time to change the subject." She tapped at the glasses resting on the polished wood surface of his desk. "I have made you an appointment with a specialist in opthamology. He is more than willing to see you today."

"They always are," Lionel remarked blandly. "Which one did you choose?"

"A Dr Goldstein, I believe you've seen him before."

"I've seen them all before, and they all told me the same thing. That if I regained my sight it would be a medical miracle."

"I'm told they do happen from time to time."

"And if they tell me this is temporary?"

Martha met his gaze, her eyes warm with sympathy. "How much worse would it be to wake up one day and find that it's gone, and to not know if some form of medical intervention could have helped. If you go to this appointment then at least you'll know, and haven't you always said that knowledge is power?"

Lioenl managed a smile at her teasing. "I have," he admitted. "Although I'm not sure I've ever said it to you."

"You haven't," she replied, "But it certainly sounds like an adage you'd subscibe to." Her tone turned serious once more as she added, "You can't continue to trick people the way you have been. It doesn't matter about your reasons, it isn't right."

Lionel would normally have argued that point, he had never had much interest in doing what was right, he had always been more interested in doing what what suited him, what was in his best interests. Normally he wouldn't have had a problem in making that clear, but he didn't want to say that to her, didn't want to see the disapointment that he knew would be in her eyes if he did. He didn't want to think about why that was, about how the last person he had felt that urge with had been Lillian. Instead he gave a gruff, "Fine, arrange the appointment and I'll go."

"8pm tonight," she told him briskly. At his clinic in Metropolis, I've informed the Seth that he'll be required slightly later tonight."

"Seth?"

"Your driver." She gave a tut, the hint of a smile on her features again. "You really should know his name."

"Now I do."

His desk phone let out a shrill ring, and Lionel answered it. Martha watched as his featrues changed from the vague amused expression he'd been perusing her with, to one of alarm that was quickly masked into an expressionless mask. "What's wrong?" Martha asked him as he hung up with barely a word uttered.

"It's Rachel Dunleavy, she has Lex." His eye twitched and he took a deep breath before he continued, "She says if I don't publicly acknowledge Clark as my son then she'll kill him. An eye for an eye, apparently. She's also given me a time limit."

Martha couldn't hold back her gasp, she got to her feet and moved unthinkingly to his side. "Oh Lionel, what are you going to do?"

His mouth tightened into a thin line, he had never appreciated being blackmailed. "I'm not sure, although I certainly won't be making that announcement."

"If it would buy you time..."

"And then what? Admit to the world it was a lie, that I let myself be pressured into making that announcement, that I can be pressurised and forced into such a situation?"

"What about Lex?"

"She won't harm him. It won't get her what she wants."

"But she is clearly becoming desperate, and you said yourself that she's unstable."

He ignored Martha's point, he didn't want to think about the very real possibility that she was right. "If you could liase with the public relations team to set up a press conference, I need to speak to my head of security."

"Will I call the police?"

"No, I'll see to it. Thank you, Martha."

She nodded, taking a moment to draw her eyes away from his. Everytime she thought she was getting closer to understanding Lionel Luthor he would drastically change, become a different man with different motives. She just prayed that he was right, that Rachel Dunleavy wouldn't harm Lex.

* * *

Lex grabbed the crystal decanter and poured himself a generous glass of his father's favourite whiskey and threw it back in one mouthful before pouring another serving. He straightened as he heard the office door open and turned to offer a sardonic smile as his father finally made his appearance, accompanied by Martha Kent. "Finally, my loving Father returns." He raised his glass at him. "I know it's difficult but try and hold yourself back from the grateful tears that your son and heir made it out of a hostage situation alive."

"I am grateful Lex, and you're clearly drunk."

Martha intervened. "Perhaps I should go."

"You've been kept late tonight, I hope he's offered overtime," Lex remarked, still glowering in the direction of Lionel.

"I had an appointment and I asked Mrs Kent to accompany me, she will of course be reimbursed for her time." Lionel picked up his decanter and shook his head at the little amber liquid left in the bottle. "I hope you enjoyed that, the distillery shut down a few years ago, that was one of the last bottles left."

"I already know you have the rest of those bottles, so your little guilt trip isn't going to work." Lex took another mouthful before he looked back over at Lionel, his scowl growing darker. "You can see," he remarked accusingly.

"So observent."

Martha stepped forward, intervening, "Yes, that was the appointment. Your Father's sight has been improving over the last few weeks, the specialist confirmed tonight that it's a permenant change."

"Yet another miracle for Lionel Luthor."

Martha looked between the pair, they were like to lions eyeing each other up, ready for the fight to be alpha. "I'll see you in the morning," she told Lionel, before looking towards Lex with a genuine smile as she stepped forward to touch his arm gently. "I'm so glad to see that you're ok, Lex."

"At least someone is," he grumbled. She didn't react, simply squeezed his arm before she turned to leave. The door clicked behind her and silence stretched out, only broken by the crackles of the fire. Finally Lex broke, asking, "Are you going to say anything?"

"So that you can come back with some retort?"

Lex gave a humourless laugh, "You're unbelievable." He glugged back the last mouthful of whiskey in his glass before adding, "Although I don't know why that surprises me."

"Neither do I. Surely you know by now Lex that I always get what I want." He spread his hands out. "So of course you were going to be fine."

"I don't think I can even come up with a suitable retort for that one. Although I'm beginning to think that the phrase God complex was invented just for you."

Lionel chuckled, pouring himself a glass and raising it to Lex. "Well, we have much to celebrate tonight, so why dwell on-"

"Your crazy ex-lover," Lex interupted dryly.

"I'm sure you have a fair few of those as well, Son, so I would lessen the judgement in your tone."

"Out of interest what is our primary celebration? My safe return? The miraculous return of your sight? Or the fact that once again you have gotten exactly what you wanted?"

Lionel shrugged. "Why not all three?"

"I don't really feel like celebrating if I'm honest. What I would like to know is if Clark isn't Lucas Luthor, then where is he?"

Taking a measured sip of his whiskey, Lionel took a moment before replying, "Not your concern."

"I could go and find him."

"You could," he admitted calmly. "But if you're hoping for a loving family reunion then you're going to be bitterly disapointed. Lucas is his mother's son, I have tried on a few occassions to begin to try and integrate him into my life, it has never ended well."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because I could have lied, told you he was dead, then you would have had nothing to look into."

"He should have been part of both our lives."

"Yes, but I could hardly bring him home and ask your Mother to accept him."

"After that then."

Lionel gave an irritated sigh. "Find him if you must Lex, but I wouldn't expect much."

"I never do from this family." His eyes narrowed. "I wonder if you've left him shares in Luthorcorp."

A smile crossed Lionel's features at his son's thinking. "I did, but I decided that I couldn't trust him with any control in the company, even if he did have the Luthor name. It's all yours."

"Not why I was asking."

"No, you thought that if I had left him shares then I really did trust him and it would show that I was lying to you, but then I'm also sure it would have crossed your mind at some point."

Lex slammed his glass onto the desk. "I've had enough of this conversation." He went to leave but turned at the door, telling Lionel bitterly, "And I'm not sure what your game is with Martha Kent, but she won't fall for it."

"You always think the worst of me Lex, perhaps I just enjoy her company."

He snorted. "Yeah, right."

Lionel listened to the door slam as Lex stormed out. It was ironic that his son believed he was lying about Martha, but the truth was he had no agenda other than the simple fact that he wanted her around him, that he wanted her to be more than just a P.A. but then given how protective Lex was about the Kents. it was probably for the best that he didn't realise that, that he continued to think he had another game he was playing.

* * *

 **I'm not convinced that I'll be bringing Lucas Luthor into this story, hence the change to Lionel's explanation. After all he isn't required for the reveal about Lionel's sight and that character wasn't the most memorable in my opinion anyway. He might be mentioned again though, we'll see.**


	8. Chapter 8

**The first part of the chapter starts during Ryan, and after the break line continues after Lex has turned up with the restraining order. Obviously parts of the plot have changed. The rest of the episode will play out in the next chapter. Hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

Sipping at her cup of coffee, Martha sifted through the reports on her lap, underlining anything that might be of interest with her pencil. Secretly she had hoped that this part of her job might come to an end after it became clear that the return of Lionel's sight was a permenant feature, as the people compiling them seemed to struggle with the word succinct, and it meant a good hour - at least - of reading every night. However, Lionel had confided he much prefered her half page statement of all the reports compiled and had insisted she continue with it, meaning that their routine of morning coffee and discussion was unchanged. She supposed it was nice that her work was appreciated, but it didn't give the task itself anymore enjoyment. She shifted slightly, her pencil tapping against the paper as her mind drifted. She enjoyed her morning meetings with Lionel, he was always suprisingly relaxed at them. Originally she had made them coffee and brought it to him, but recently it was waiting when she arrived,along with an assortment of breakfast items that certainly wouldn't do her figure any good long term. A smile curved her lips, she felt she saw a different side of Lionel Luthor at these meetings, he would smile and make witty insights and sometimes she even thought he might be teasing her.

Martha shook her head, she was getting carried away, thinking too much into this, no doubt he was simply basking in being back to his old self and there was nothing more to it. That he persisted in these morning meetings meant that they must be benefiting him somewhere, after all he wasn't going to keep them up just for the sake of having her company. She snorted softly in amusement at that thought, because the thought of Lionel Luthor wanting to spend his time entertaining her was somewhat ludicrous. Yes there had been that kiss, but they both knew that had been an error, a moment of sheer madness, that she absolutely had to stop thinking about.

She bit down on her bottom lip, a frown furrowing her features. She was just lonely she told herself again, that was why she had been thinking about that kiss so much. It also accounted for why she felt a - rather alarming, if she were to be honest - shoot of lust whenever he touched her, his hand had brushed her lower back today when he'd guided her through a door and she had actually felt the blush that had fired up her cheeks. Thank God he hadn't noticed. Martha tutted at herself, she had to get a grip, Lionel Luthor had no interest in her beyond the professional and she shouldn't have any interest in him. After all, while he may be witty, charming and sometimes even thoughtful, he was also ruthless and sometimes even just dangerous. That that added to the intrigue she had about him and spurred on her attraction could not be a good thing. Loneliness, she told herself again, that's what this was. She was happy in Smallville but she had always been Jonathan's wife or Clark's Mom, very few had seen past either of those things to get to know her. That had never bothered her, until now, until she was a widow, not a wife and her son was looking - quite rightly - to his own furture. So where did that leave her? Apparantly lusting after unsuitable men.

A loud, insistent banging at the kitchen door, grabbed her attention, pulling her from her thoughts. Martha got up, almost grateful that she had something else to do than dwell on the confusion that now lurked around her thoughts on Lionel Luthor. She was surprised and slightly alarmed to see Sheriff Miller once again standing awkwardly on her porch step, an unknown and rather angry looking man accompanying him. "Is something wrong?" She asked anxiously as she swung open the screen door.

"You can say that again," came the irate bark of the unpleasant man who was now practically vibrating with rage.

Etha held up his hand, his tone placating but firm as he told him, "Sir, I appreciate your situation but let me deal with this." He looked up at Martha and gave her a tense smile. "If it's alright with you I'd prefer if we spoke inside."

"Of course," Martha replied, stepping back into her kitchen to let the two men in.

Taking off his hat, Ethan bunched the rim in his hands as he cleared his throat awkwardly before speaking. "It's a bit awkward, Martha...ah Mrs Kent." He shot a side-long glance at his companion. "Dr Garner here claims that Clark has um...well that he's kidnapped one of his patients."

Martha felt her mouth gape at that statement. "Excuse me?" She spluttered. "Clark? There must be a mistake."

"There isn't a mistake!" Dr Garner snapped, turning on her, the vein in his forehead pulsing. "Your son, came in my facil-hospital," he corrected himself hastily, "And kidnapped Ryan James."

"Ryan James," Martha repeated.

"I believe the boy stayed with yourself and Jonathan for a short time last year," Ethan added.

"He did. But Ryan went to stay with his aunt."

"Who passed legal care of Ryan to myself when he became...unwell."

Martha decided that her first, unfavourable, impression of Dr Garner had in fact been the correct one. She didn't like the way he hesitated over the word unwell, never mind the use of the word facility. "I'm sorry to hear that Ryan has been ill, but I don't see why you think Clark removed him from hospital."

Ethan cleared his throat awkwardly again, his feet shuffling as he held out a black and white security image. "I'm sorry Martha, but this picture clearly shows Clark carrying Ryan out the emergency exit."

Martha's lips thinned as she observed the image, it was a good thing her son could run fast, because she was going to struggle not to throw something at him when he finally appeared home. "It does, but I still don't understand why Clark would do this."

"Had he spoken to Ryan recently?"

"They stayed in touch, but I didn't monitor their correspondence."

"Perhaps you should have," Dr Garner snapped, his face twisting in anger.

"Or perhaps we should look at why my son supposedly thought it was necessary to remove Ryan from your care," Martha snapped. "You seem more annoyed than concerned that Ryan has gone."

"Of course I'm concerned," he amended hastily.

"I think we can all agree that there is a lot of concern here," Ethan concluded. "Martha, do you know where Clark is now?"

"No," she admitted.

Dr Garner's response was an angry hiss. "If you know what's good for you, you'll give us more information than that."

"I was at work and as Clark's curfew hasn't passed I simply thought he was at a friends."

Ethan gave a sigh. "This could potentially be a serious offence we're talking about here, if-"

His sentence was cut short by the door opening, and they all looked over to see a slightly sheepish looking Clark step into the kitchen. "Thank God," Martha murmured under her breath.

Dr Garner rounded on him. "Where's Ryan? What you've done is an offence."

Clark ignored him, looking at Ethan he said, "Ryan wanted to leave with me, that's not illegal. It is however a crime to hold someone against their will, which is what this man was doing to him."

"How dare you!"

Continuing to ignore him, Clark stated, "He only wants until 9am tomorrow."

Rubbing at his head, Ethan looked between the three of them, finally concluding, "It does look as though the boy left of his own free will, in which case he can't be thought of as missing until we reach 24 hours."

"You must be kidding," Dr Garner snapped peevishly.

"I don't think law enforcement is known for their sense of humour," Martha told him dryly.

"Ryan will be here tomorrow when we get here at 9am?" Ethan asked Clark.

"You have my word."

"For what it's worth," came the angry hiss. Garner raised a pointed finger in Clark's direction. "I will search every inch of this farm, rip it apart if I have to, I want Ryan returned to my care."

Clark glared at him, and Martha stepped forward. "I think that's enough for tonight, I will see you both in the morning, in the meantime if you could excuse us, Clark and I have things to discuss."

She waited until she heard their car pull out of the drive before turning to glare at her son. "Explain," she demanded.

He at least had the grace to look slightly abashed, his gaze sliding from hers for a moment before meeting it once again. "Ryan phoned me," he admitted. "Looking for help. He said that he was being kept at this facility. They had restrained him Mom."

Martha sighed. "Why didn't you tell me this?"

"I didn't want to worry you, so I got Chloe to look into it."

"And decided that kidnapping was the best solution?"

Clark rubbed at the back of his neck. "I wasn't really thinking by that point."

"Believe me that much is obvious."

"Ryan's aunt couldn't live with his capabilites, so she pretty much sold him to Dr Garner."

Martha shook her head. "That poor boy. Where is he now?"

"I can't tell you."

"Clark!"

He backed up slightly at the anger in her voice. "I don't want you to get into any trouble. I have a plan."

"I don't currently find that reassuring," she told him, her teeth gritted together.

"I know." He slid past her awkwardly, trying to smile as he did so. "Honestly though Mom, it's going to be ok." He kissed her cheek before jogging up the stairs.

"You're awfully calm for someone who just commited a felony," she yelled after him.

"It's not a felony yet," came the quick return.

Martha sunk her head into her hands and groaned, she should really get up there and demand a full explanation, but she knew she wasn't going to get very far tonight. She only hoped that Clark actually did know what he was doing, and to think she had originally been relieved by the interuption.

* * *

Lionel glanced at his desk clock, it was after nine and Martha wasn't here yet, and she was never late. He leaned back in his chair and attempted to quash the feeling of concern that flickered through him, he would never get used to that sensation. He took a sip of his coffee, looking across to where her mug was resting, unable to help himself from smiling.

Their morning meetings had started as a necessity, as had her reports, but they had been short and concise and although he was normally loathe to trust others to sum up important information for him, he found that she did so impeccably. As for the meetings, he had simply enjoyed them, enjoyed the way she gradually relaxed and the conversation would drift away from work, it allowed him to find out more about her. The only difficulty was trying to supress just what he was now thinking about her, trying to contain himself. Yesterday, he had, unthinkingly, let his hand brush against the small of her back, his fingertips grazing the fabric of her blouse, and he had seen the flush that coloured her cheeks ever so slightly and heard the catch in her breath. It had taken all of his control not to press her against the door frame. His fingers had curled into a fist of tension, and he forced himself to straighten them again. He took a deep breath, God how he wanted her.

The door opened and finally Martha rushed in, offering a rather harried smile as she placed the reports onto his desk. "I'm so sorry I'm late."

"Is everything ok?"

"It will be," she told him. "There was a...misunderstanding."

He arched an eyebrow. "Sounds intriguing." He waved his hand. "I'm sure you'll need coffee while you fill me in."

"You don't want me to cut straight to the report?"

"No, I thought that I would get an explanation for why you were late." His mouth twitched in amusement. "Isn't that what an employer is supposed to do?"

"It is, but it's a long story."

"Summarize," Lionel advised. He tapped the report she'd put in front of him. "You're good at that."

Martha dipped her head for a moment as she tried to hide her smile. "Then I'll do my best. It would appear that I have a new addition to my household. Jonathan and I temporarily fostered him last year and it would appear he is once again in need of a home."

"And you're happy to provide one?"

"Of course," she answered easily. "He's a young boy, alone in the world, he needs some form of stability."

"Will he be a permenant feature?"

"I hope so," she admitted.

Lionel looked at her in surprise, took in the soft expression in her eyes, the way her eyes creased ever so slightly at the corners, he'd noticed how they did that when her smile was genuine rather than simply poilte. It had been a cause of great celebration when he'd realised that she was yet to fake smile at him. It made no difference to him if Martha decided to adopt again, unless... "Would you keep working if he is?"

"I would have to," she laughed. "With two growing boys to feed, they'd eat me out of house and home in a week."

"How old is he?"

"Ryan is twelve."

"Difficult age. Although I never did find an easy one," he admitted.

"I don't think there is one," she confided, finally taking a mouthful of coffee.

Lionel watched the elegant line of her throat as she swallowed, waiting a second to ask, "You didn't want to adopt again before now?"

"It wasn't that we didn't want to, just given the...circumstances of Clark's adoption, Jonathan and I felt it would be unwise to tempt fate."

"The papers would have stood up to scrutiny," he informed her.

Martha took another measured drink, she could hardly admit that it wasn't the paperwork, but rather Clark's abilities and the need to keep everything a secret that stopped them from even considering another child. "We didn't want to take the risk," she replied after a moment. "Clark was everything I ever wanted." She shook her head and offered him another smile. "I'm sorry, I've strayed from my point. Should we get back to work?"

"Soon." He eyed her with interest. "Is that why you stayed on the farm?"

"I stayed because I was needed, it was a family business and we were a family. I didn't miss Metropolis, or the rat race," she confessed.

"And now?"

"I enjoy my job, more than I thought I would," came the admission.

"High praise," Lionel chuckled. "I'm just surprised. You're an intelligent woman, farming hardly seems like enough of a challenge for you."

"If you were to try it you'd find it more challenging than you'd expect," Martha replied, her tone hardening slightly.

Lionel held up a placating hand. "I meant no offence. I'm aware of the hard physical labour, just given your background-"

"You're not the first person to say that, but then life sends us down paths we don't expect." She gave a shrug. "I had my son and husband, and the farm kept me occupied."

Lionel noted with interest the use of the word occupied. He didn't believe for a moment that Martha Kent had been entirely fulfilled by her life, content, yes, but a woman who threw herself into the challenge of his business must have wondered from time to time what else she could do when she was stuck at home. "And now you have a career and soon enough another teenager to manage. I dont envy you the latter," he teased.

"He's a nice boy. He deserves a chance."

He wondered if perhaps Martha Kent might be a collector of broken things, determined to help, to make things better. It was normally a trait he sneered at, looked down upon, but with her it was somewhat endearing. It should concern him that he felt like that about her, but as he looked into her blue eyes he found himself struck with the inability to care. "And you and Clark are determined to give him one," he guessed.

"Yes," she declared firmly. She tapped her finger against the report. "Now we should probably get back to work. I've held the day back enough already."

"Very well." He slid the manilla folder out from under her finger, ensuring that the side of his hand brushed her skin. "I suppose we should get started."

Martha forced herself not to gasp at the unexpected glancing touch and instead nodded she watched him peruse the document, his keen eyes scanning each line, his brow furrowed thoughfully as his long fingers tapped against the desk. She pulled her gaze away, she wasn't thinking about this she told herself firmly. Work, she thought, you're here to work. She wouldn't be caught checking out Lionel Luthor. Head in the game, she told herself, forcing her mind back to more professional matters.


	9. Chapter 9

Lex was surprised to see the figure of Martha Kent walking down the corridor of the Luthor mansion, clearly on course for his father's office. "Mrs Kent, you were one of the last people I expected to see here tonight," he called.

Her head jerked up, and he realised she'd been in a world of her own. She flashed him a tired smile after a second. "Lex, you can call me Martha, I don't think we need to stand on formalities."

Lex gave a nod, a small smile playing across his features as he echoed, "Martha then," He looked down at the folders in her arms and cocked his head thoughtfully, the smile fading into a faint frown. "Surely you haven't been working? I assumed you had been allowed time off given the circumstances."

"I've been working from home."

"I'll speak to my Father, I know he thinks that the Earth should revolve around himself and Luthorcorp, but you should be allowed compassionate leave and he needs to accept that," Lex ranted, bristling on her account at the assumed slight.

Martha placed a gentle hand on his arm as she replied softly, "Lex, I wanted to keep working, it helped keep my mind off Ryan, about what was happening." She managed a quiet laugh, her eyes sparkling for a brief moment as she recounted, "Actually your Father suggested that I take time off, in fact at one point he was even quite insistent. I did wonder if he was going to have me frogmarched out of here by security. Eventually though he agreed to let me work from home."

Lex couldn't help the raising his eyebrow at that statement, at the idea that his Father might actually be capable of reacting like a human being. He opened his mouth and then shut it again, unable to formulate the witty response he'd been hoping for. His expression dropped into a thoughtful frown, Lionel Luthor wasn't known for a pleasant or even humane approach towards his employees, yet Martha Kent made it sound as though he'd surpassed being reasonable, and seemingly managed concern, he was potentially even helpful. "I wonder if he's feeling well," he finally managed.

"He isn't always the terror everyone thinks," Martha told him.

"I haven't heard that sentiment echoed by any of his P.A's, general employess or in fact anyone else who's ever met my Father."

"Well I'll have to agree to disagree with them," she laughed. Her gaze softened as she took in Lex Luthor, there was no use denying that he and Lionel had a strained relationship and she didn't agree with Lionel's parenting style, but she could now see that there were more similarities between them than Lex would ever care to admit to. She took in the tired eyes in his pale face and asked, "How are you Lex? Clark told me how often you visited Ryan, about how you brought him the comics, that was kind of you."

He shook his head. "I forget myself, I haven't passed along my condolences."

"I appreciate the sentiment but I'll admit to being tired of hearing that word," Martha admitted. "I'm glad that in his last days at least, Ryan was surrounded by people who cared about him, and that included you."

"I found him interesting," Lex admitted. "He was...insightful."

"He was," Martha agreed easily. She hadn't been surprised that Lex had been drawn to Ryan, after all they both outsiders, Lex through his father's money and connections and Ryan through his abilities. They had both lost their Moms at a young age and that had left them feeling cast adrift from the rest of world.

"Clark will miss him."

"He will, but I'm glad he had time to spend with him, to say goodbye, and someday Clark will be too." She squeezed his arm. "I believe I have you to thank for that."

Lex shuffled, his gaze averting in embarrassment at the unexpected praise for a second before his eyes met hers again. "I didn't want him to make the same mistakes I did," he admitted. "I wish I had made more of my time and not spent it looking for a cure that didn't exist."

"When it comes to losing someone I think we all have regrets and wishes about how things might have been different."

"How is Clark?"

"Managing, he's staying with Pete tonight and I believe there was some talk of Chloe and Lana taking over some pizza and films, some normality will be good for him." She took in Lex's long, dark, wool coat that covered an immaculate shirt and trousers. "And where are you off to?"

"I thought I might drive to Metropolis, meet some friends for a drink and stay at my apartment there." He didn't tell her that there wasn't any friends, that he just wanted to drink himself into oblivion and seek some form of comfort from any attractive female that would have him. "Do you have any plans?" He asked politely.

"Nothing so enjoyable." She tapped the pile of papers in her arms and commented, "Since I had finished with these and Clark was away out, I thought I may as well drop them off. There's a meeting on Monday and your Father may find some of these statistics useful."

"Well it's Friday night, so he is of course still working away in his office." Lex frowned thoughtfully. "I'm not sure he's aware of the meaning of the phrase social life."

"I'm sometimes not sure that I am either anymore" Martha confided with a soft laugh. She shifted the papers in her arms. "Well you enjoy yourself at least," she told him warmly.

"I'd like to say the same to you, but I know what he's like, so I think I might just leave you to it."

Martha shook her head with a smile. "Goodnight Lex."

"Goodnight Mrs...Martha," Lex corrected himself. He stood for a minute and watched her head down the corridor, realising that he actually felt ever so slightly lighter for talking to her.

* * *

As his office door opened with a creak, a scowling Lionel looked up, prepared to snap at whoever was about to walk into the room. The sharp rebuke died on his tongue however when Martha stepped in. She was casually dressed, in jeans and an oversized flannel shirt over a black top, Lionel had never been a fan of flannel, but somehow she managed to pull it off. There was a smile of greeting on her face as she said, "I hope I'm not interupting."

Lionel got to his feet. "No, of course not. I was just catching up on some work."

"Snap," she commented, stepping forward to put the files onto his desk. "I finished going through these-"

He gave a sigh. "I told you that there wasn't a rush."

"I know, but it was easier to keep busy. Anyway you might just thank me, the highlighted section on page 4 makes for some interesting reading."

Unable to help himself, Lionel found himself flicking through the papers till he got to that page, a smirk playing about his lips when he saw what she had noted. "So it does, I may be able to negotiate further on price."

"See, I've saved you some pocket change," Martha quipped.

He laughed. "You have, I'm impressed."

"As you should be," she teased.

"So now that you've caught what my merger and aquisitions department missed, will you do as I've suggested and take a step back?"

Martha's smile faded. "I'd rather not," she admitted. "I was hoping to come back to work on Monday."

"Is that wise?" Lionel queried.

"Do you think I'm incapable?"

Lionel made a small noise of amusement, his head dipped as the corners of his mouth curled upwards. "Far from it, although I believe it is customary for employees to take a leave of absence after a loss." Looking up, he added dryly, "At least that's what I've been told."

"Well I'd rather be kept busy," she replied shortly.

He examined her carefully, his sharp eyes taking in the shadows under her eyes, the way they marred her otherwise flawless skin, along with her pinched expression and he stepped out from behind his desk. He saw her steel herself, straightening, her shoulders drawing back as though she expected a confrontation, her face tilting to look up at his as he stopped in front of her. "I haven't told you how sorry I was to hear about Ryan," he remarked quietly, his voice low.

Martha's breath caught in her throat at his words, she hadn't expected him to comment on Ryan, had thought, hoped, that perhaps he would just be glad she wanted to come back to work as it meant his daily routine would no longer be affected. "I..." She shook her head, he was so close to her, those sharp eyes softer than she'd seen them before, his concern palpable and she could hardly stand the combination; it certainly didn't help her put her thoughts in order, to voice the thoughts that she had forced herself to block out, for Ryan's sake. "Thank you," she finally replied.

"I know you'd hoped to welcome him into your family. This must be a very difficult time." She broke with his gaze at those words, he noted with interest, her right eye flickering ever so slightly. "When is the funeral?"

"We don't know," she admitted. "Ryan's aunt has claimed responsibility for it, I believe she wants it to be a private affair."

Lionel tsked. "It seems unfair that she has the right to step in now, when she walked away from her responsibilities."

Rubbing at her forehead, Martha gave a curt nod. "Yes, I suppose."

"You don't agree?" He asked with interest.

"I don't disagree."

"It's not like you to sit on the fence, Martha. It doesn't suit you, after all you've never shyed away from giving an opinion before."

Her eyes flashed briefly. "I wouldn't call it sitting on the fence." Lionel simply raised an eyebrow at her and she knew that he was simply waiting for her to elaborate. "Ryan had a miserable life," she finally told him. "He was used and exploited by people who should have cared about him, but at least in his last days he was surrounded by people who cared about him."

"Given that you had hoped for Ryan to stay with you permenantly, I imagine that his illness and death has been...difficult to say the least."

Martha's lips drew together and her gaze left his. "I did want to give Ryan a happy, stable home," she replied. "But he wasn't my son, we didn't have the chance to form that kind of bond." I feel like an awful person, everyone looks at me as though I should be about to fall apart, and..." She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. "I just don't feel that way."

Lionel took a step closer, reaching out he let his fingertips graze the underside of her jaw, tilting her face so that her blue eyes connected with his again. For a moment he didn't speak, considering his options. He could understand the confusion she had to a certain extent. However, he would never have even thought about taking the boy into his life, he didn't want to deal with another person's damaged goods. He had never had a soft spot for children, had only chosen to have them to keep the family name going, to build his dynasty. He loved his sons, Julian's death...he couldn't even bring himself to think about it, but he hadn't been a natural father. Martha on the other hand, he could see her as a mother, soothing any upsets, wiping away tears and proudly pining those god awful finger paintings children made onto her fridge. He sighed, "I think you need a drink," he told her after a moment, his fingers stroking her skin as he drew his fingers back.

Martha shivered at his touch and felt goosebumps break out across her skin, her breath catching. "I can't," she told him. "I need to drive home."

"I keep a driver on standby, I'll have him take you home."

"I'll need the truck tomorrow," she argued.

He waved his hand, dismissing the argument. "I'll arrange for it be taken back to the farm." Personally he thought that heap of junk should be burned, but he doubted she'd appreciate that thought. He walked over to his drinks cabinet, adding, "Unless you need to rush back for Clark?"

"No," she shook her head. "He's at his friends tonight."

"Then it's sorted," he declared decisively, pouring her a generous glass of whiskey.

Martha hesitated for a moment before taking the glass. Truth be told she didn't want to go home, she didn't want to sit by herself and think about everything she had lost. She did enjoy Lionel's company, so where was the harm? "Thank you," she told him.

He waved her towards the large plush sofa and she took a seat, sipping at her drink as he sat next to her. He leaned back, surveying her. "You did your best for that boy, you gave him what he'd never had and what he'd always wanted, even if it only ended up being for a short time. It's more than most people would have done."

"I should be more upset though, I look at how devestated Clark is and I...I-"

"Everyone grieves differently. I'm sure there were many who felt that I didn't behave appropriately after Lillian died, some people aren't happy unless you wrape youself in a dark shroud and sit in a darkened room."

Despite everything, Martha couldn't help but smile at his dry remark. "You mean you didn't?"

"No, I went straight back into the boardroom."

"And yet you don't think I should come back to work," she commented innocently.

"Touche," he chuckled. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass as he watched her, finally shrugging. "Very well, if you feel it would help."

"I do."

"Monday then." He drained the last of his drink. "Now, when was the last time you ate?"

"I don't remember," she admitted, so surprised by the question that she didn't try to evade it.

"I'll arrange for the kitchen to send something up."

"Oh you don't have to."

"We both need to eat. I have to admit to being rather lax with my meals today. I was too caught up with business matters." He reached for the cordless phone lying on the side table next to him. "It will be nice to have the company."

"I suppose...if you insist," Martha replied.

"I do. Now red wine or white?"

Martha couldn't help but smile, answering decisively, "Red."

* * *

Swirling her fingertip around the rim of her wine glass, Martha relaxed back against the sofa, smiling across at Lionel. "Thank you for that," she told him, her hand gesturing at the empty plates that littered his large coffee table.

"My pleasure." He told her, without agenda, genuinely meaning the words for a change.

"And the wine is wonderful."

"It's Argentinian, I discovered the vineyard quite by accident when looking for a particular cask. This vintage however, is rather difficult to get hold of."

Martha glanced at her half filled wine glass and then back up at Lionel. "I hope you're not about to tell me that I'm drinking the equivelant of my monthly salary?"

"Not quite," he replied.

"Oh." She looked at the empty bottle on the table and felt almost out of her depth. "I normally just get whatever's on offer," she admitted. "You probably should have saved this for someone more important."

Lionel took a sip of wine, looking at her thoughtfully before telling her, "You have the ability to make me see things much more clearly, to put things in perspective to cut through any complications and make everything seem manageable. You are important to me."

His confession hung in the air and Martha felt her skin flush at his words. "It's nice to be appreciated," she finally managed.

Putting his wine glass onto the coffee table, Lionel reached across and easily slide hers out of her hand, placing it beside his. He took her hand in his, his fingertips stroking across the soft skin of her hand. "It's more than appreciation."

His touch made her stomach clench and she could feel her breathing grow heavy, she leaned into him, unable to help herself. "Lionel," she murmured softly, unsure if she were trying to warn him off or encourage him.

His hand dropped from hers, trailing up to her face, cupping her jaw, his thumb stroking her delicate skin while his fingers toyed with an auburn strand of hair that was brushing against her cheek. The hand he'd let go off resting flat against his chest now, her body angling into his, her eyes fized on his.

Unthinkingly as he lowered his head, she tilted her face upwards and felt his mouth brush gently against hers, repeating the action when she didn't protest. He pulled her closer to him, his mouth lowering to hers once more, pressing his lips against hers, softly at first and deepening the kiss when she brought her hands up to his face, drawing him closer.

She moaned quietly against his mouth and that one sound had him fighting to keep a grip on his self control, her lips were so warm and soft, she was addictive he thought dazedly.

Martha felt her pulse speed up as his slightly roughened fingers brushed up and down her neck as he kissed her, feeling as though he was setting off a trial of sparks along her skin as he touched her.

Her fingers curled into his hair, and she arched into him slightly, her breasts crushed against his chest, as he ran his hand from her throat to her hip, tugging her closer into his, pulling her over him. She was beginning to struggle to catch her breath as she ran her hands down to his shoulders, revelling in the warmth of his skin that she could feel even through the soft wool of his jumper. It was good…so good, she felt more than a little out of control as his hands ran over her, his fingers slipped underneath her flannel shirt, shifting the straps of her cami top to the side, enabling him to carress her collarbone

She broke the kiss, gasping for breath as she did so. "We shouldn't be doing this," she muttered, avoiding his gaze, although she stayed in his arms.

His mouth found the shell of her ear, his warm breath as he spoke did nothing to cool her ardour. "I know that you're lonely, Martha," he told her, his voice gravely. "That people don't see you for who you are, how capable you are. I do." He pressed a kiss to the pulse point on her neck.

She couldn't help but moan at his kiss. "I work for you, this could be a disaster."

"I do have the ability to seperate my work from my personal life. The two won't cross," he told her. His hand brushed against her breast and she arched into him, her fingers curling into his hair. "If you tell me to stop then I will and we'll act like this never happened.

Martha's mind raced. She should push him away, tell him no, but she didn't want to. Whatever was between them she was tired of fighting it, she wanted him out of her system. Her mouth finding his was her reply.

* * *

 **Author's note**

 **I was always confused by the lack of reaction to Ryan's death, so I found trying to deal with it a bit more difficult than I was expecting.**

 **Anyway on a totally different note, I can either ramp up the rating on this or keep it fairly mild. I'm happy to go with reader preference on this one. If it goes to M then it will either do so in the next chapter or the one after. Just in case anybody is looking for it. I didn't want to put this message at the top in case it spoiled the end of the chapter.  
**

 **As always reviews are always welcome.**


	10. Chapter 10

**No change of rating yet.**

* * *

The room was quiet now, the only sound the crackling of the fire in the grate. Martha took in a deep breath of air as she felt her heart rate begin to slow back down to it's normal rate. She felt Lionel's fingers gently circle the skin of her shoulder and she flexed her hand against his firm chest, playing idly with the thin covering of chest hair, dark sprinkled with grey. His body was so different from Jonathan's. Jonathan had been broad and bulky, whilst Lionel was lean, more muscular than she had expected with a strength she simply hadn't accounted for. Her lips thinned at the thought of her husband and she shifted, pulling herself into sitting position, her hair falling across her face as she avoided Lionel's speculative gaze. Her eyes scanned the room instead, trying to locate her clothing before she attempted an inelegant scramble for them.

Martha flushed as she got to her feet, knowing that Lionel was still watching her. There was no way of getting dressed in a calm manner after something like this she quickly realised, her hands shaking as she attempted to fasten her bra.

"I can help you with that," Lionel remarked from the sofa.

Glancing up, she saw that he was still reclining confidently, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he watched her. "No, I'm sure I can manage," she told him, biting back a curse as her fingers slipped on the clasp yet again. What had she been thinking? He was her boss, and a Luthor and yet she had fallen into his bed...although not literally, they hadn't gotten that far; without a second thought. She had been married twenty years and yet in the space of six months of losing her husband had found herself in the arms of another man.

"I can hear you thinking from here," came the sudden dry voice of Lionel. He got to his feet and gracefully pulled on his trousers, moving towards her in long strides. She could feel him at her back, feel his breath on the back of her neck. His hands slid round her front, brushing lightly against the back of her hands. "May I?" he asked calmly.

Martha bit down on her bottom lip for a moment before nodding. "Yes," she told him, her voice hoarser than she was used to. Perhaps now wasn't the time for belated modesty, after all she could hardly flounce out of here if she was unable to get dressed. His movements were deft as he clipped her bra into place, his hands brushing her sides as they moved away, finally settling on her hips, as he let her finish pulling it into place.

Lionel placed a kiss to just below her ear, smiling against her skin and she knew that he could feel her pulse starting to race again. "You have nothing to feel guilty about," he told her, his voice firm.

"I don't think guilt needs a reason, I believe it's known to be an irrational emotion."

"Aren't they all." He stroked at the soft skin of her hips, his mouth still placing chaste kisses along her neck.

She knew she should pull away, but she couldn't help but start to relax against him, although her guilt spiked. "This was a terrible idea," she murmured.

He chuckled, the sound throatier than usual. "I have to disagree, I thought it was rather inspired."

"I shouldn't have..." Her thought trailed away as she found herself unable to voice anything further, reason slipping from her once again.

"There's nothing wrong in seeking comfort."

"Nothing about this is comfortable," she retorted. Passionate, enjoyable and foolish yes, and most certainly disquietening but not comfortable.

Lionel turned her to face him, his brown eyes meeting hers, his eyebrow arching. "I'm not sure how to take that, but it hardly signifies." He looked at her thoughtfully and Martha felt her skin burn under is gaze. "Martha, I'm sure you have scores of reasons as to why this should stop now, but do any of them really hold up?"

"Jonathan..." she whispered softly, her eyes betraying her doubt, her indecision, her guilt.

"Is gone," Lionel stated blandly, and she winced at his words. "I know how much it hurts, the issues Lillian and I had faded when I lost her and for a time I thought I'd never be whole again, but retreating into that farm isn't going to help." He tucked her hair behind her ear, his thumb grazing along her cheekbone. "This can stop here and now if that's what you want, although I would like it to continue. But I meant what I said, I can seperate this from our working relationship."

Martha's mind raced, she could hardly think, could barely begin to reconcile the idea that Lionel Luthor was offering her an affair. She closed her eyes, letting out a sigh as she tried to force herself to think rationally. She would be lying if she said that she hadn't enjoyed it, but then there had always been something between them, a frission that underlined their every interaction, but that could be dangerous. But then she knew what this was, what he wanted; the physical. There would be no false declarations, no pretence that this was anything other than strong physical attraction and sex. Was that a betrayal? She didn't want another relationship, what she'd had with Jonathan...she doubted she would ever find that again, and she certainly wasn't about to start trying, but she had to admit to being lonely. No one seemed to see her, everyone greeted her and made all the right sympathetic noises; but she was well aware that she had been the outsider. Jonathan had been of Smallville and as welcome as she was, she was still seen to many of her generation as that city girl he brought back from Metropolis. Her eyes opened again, and she saw Lionel watching, waiting, like a predator stalking his prey she thought vaguely. He saw her, he encouraged her to speak her mind, to push her boundaries; although whether this was a good thing was yet to be seen. Surely she could manage a fling, something that made her feel anything that wasn't the numbing grief and loneliness she seemed to feel so frequently. "It wouldn't impact work?" She finally asked.

His mouth began to curl up into a triumphant smile. "Outside office hours," he confirmed.

"It stays between us." This time it wasn't a question but a statement of fact. "This isn't a romance, it's just..."

"An affair?" Lionel suggested easily.

"It sounds sordid when put that way."

"Then why put a name to it?" He held out his hands as he told her, "I'll make you no false promises, Martha. I have no more interest in obtaining a second Mrs Luthor than you have of becoming her."

She ignored his last statement, it didn't require her to answer. "Then we're agreed?"

"It would appear so." He reached for their wine glasses and pressed hers into her hand. "Should we drink to it?"

Martha wondered if perhaps she had just sold her soul to the devil, but at this moment she didn't want to turn back. Plus that glass of wine cost a small fortune and she'd feel wasteful if she left it. Her glass clinked with his and she drained her glass; dutch courage she told herself. She placed her empty glass down and instead reached for the rest of her clothing. "I should probably get going," she told him. "It's late."

"You could stay," Lionel suggested.

"Your employees would talk," she reminded him as she pulled on the rest of her clothes.

"I pay them too well for them to indulge in idle gossip."

"It doesn't matter how much you pay, people will always talk if they think someone else might be interested in what they have to say," Martha replied easily.

He smiled at that. "A well made point." He reached out and untucked the collar of her shirt. "Still I admit to being disapointed that you're leaving so soon."

"I have no doubt that you'll recover quickly."

Lionel laughed. "I always do," he told her.

He caught her hand as she made to move and pulled her into him, his lips finding hers. Martha pressed herself onto her tiptoes as she kissed him back, her hands threaded through his hair, pulling him closer. Lust was dangerous, she thought as she nipped at his bottom lip and she was playing with fire. She pulled away after a long moment, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth as she told him breathlessly, "If you could phone your driver, I'll meet him outside."

"Now I have to draw the line at that,"Lionel replied, his tone firm. "You don't even have a jacket. I'll call him round before you leave."

"I'm sure I'll manage a few minutes, I am used to being outside after all."

"Then think how odd it will look if you rush out of here, just to wait outside. You were worried about gossip."

Martha shot him a sceptical look. "Your concern is touching, Lionel, but why do I feel like you simply want to get your own way?"

"Because you know me," came the easy reply. His hand touched her cheek. "Although I admit that I don't like the idea of you hanging around outside my front door, it's a security risk if nothing else. Something could happen to you."

"No-one is going to target me."

"As my P.A. you could hold valuable information."

She rolled her eyes. "Lionel until very recently you simply used you P.A.'s for coffee and to manage your diary, which is what a large number of people still believe I do. No-one is going to think that you involved me in any part of your business."

"Which just shows how much they underestimate you."

"Then I'm safe to wait outside." Her hand covered his, drawing the palm across to her mouth and kissing it gently as she concluded with added firmness, "Good night Lionel." With that Martha snatched her bag and made for the door, a break for freedom before she could do anything else that was insane, or be talked into staying, because she knew that it wouldn't take much.

* * *

Lionel couldn't help but smile at Martha's exit, at the way she had refused to give into his demands, had tilted her chin in defiance and stood her ground. He reached for his phone and in the space of a few seconds had made his wishes clear. His shirt was a crumpled heap on the floor, but he pulled it on anyway, doing the buttons up with ease before he moved to the window.

He could see the bright lights of the limo, but it was too dark to make out anything else. He waited until it pulled down the long driveway before he stepped away, reassured that she would be safely on her way home. Sighing, Lionel reached for his decanter and poured himself a generous measure and then settled into his office chair as he considered what had happened. He had never expected the night to end the way it had.

The amber liquid burned at his throat as he drank; he'd thought that if he'd had her once then he would be rid of the constant level of feeling that plagued him regarding Martha Kent. It was a feeling he was unused to, he tended to have a short attention span when it came to women, they flited around him, wanting the lifestyle he could offer them, desperate for even just a taste. In exchange they would flatter his ego and warm his bed, no doubt in the hope that they would be the next Mrs Luthor. He had meant what he'd said to Martha, he had no interest in remarrying, never so much as considered it. Lillian had been a wonderful woman, clever, vibrant and kind, but despite all of that their marriage had disintegrated into a war ground. Her health had failed and while he had wanted to be supportive, Lillian had turned on him, picking out flaws that she had always seen but that she had decided were now intolerable. Julian's birth and death had only made things worse. He'd hoped it would be a second chance, a chance to rediscover the intimacy he had lost with Lillian and a chance for Lex to rally, the meoter strike had left him timid and withdrawn and he'd hoped a younger brother would bolster him.

Lionel drained his glass, trying to force his mind past these unhealthy thoughts. No, he had no interest in a new wife, although he had no doubt that it would irritate Lex; he couldn't supress his chuckle at that thought.

Martha though was an interesting prospect, on paper she was nothing close to the type of woman he would normally romance, but there was something about her. She challenged him and he'd come to realised that he actually respected her, a feat very few accomplished. It of course didn't hurt that he found her attractive, the way her eyes sparked and the warmth of her smile. Her loneliness at times was palpable and yet she held her head high, he doubted others even realised how she felt. When he'd held her in the after glow, he'd had the realisation that perhaps there were aspects of his previous life that he'd missed; feeling a smile aginast his skin, the soft touch and kiss of a lover as they came down from their mutual high. Things that he'd not had in a very long time, most women were out to impress him, to prove their prowess. It was ironic that despite the sometimes rather gymnastic talents of these women, that Martha Kent who had spent her days toiling the fields in flannel would be more passionate and more diverting than any of them.

He would have to be careful, he didn't want to lose her as a P.A. she had proven herself as a valuable employee and he was loathe to let that slip through his fingers. However, neither did he want to call a halt to this affair. It was reassuring that Martha had no interest in anything long term and given her morals and principles he couldn't imagine her attempting to blackmail him. This could be manageable, he would hand her the appearance of control, after all he doubted that she would want anything other than a brief interlude, and simply enjoy their time together. Lionel leaned back in his chair, given tonight he had a feeling that their time together would be very enjoyable indeed.


	11. Chapter 11

"Get a glass!" Martha sighed in exasperation as she reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to see Clark raise the milk bottle to his lips.

He jumped and shot her a guilty smile, the smile that made it so difficult for her to stay annoyed with him. "Sorry, just seemed easier."

Tutting, Martha pulled a glass out of the cupboard and pressed it into Clark's hand. "It wouldn't even take you a second," she remarked, although she couldn't help but smile at the way his bottom lip had formed the smallest of pouts. She watched as he poured the milk into the glass and asked him, "Did you have a good weekend?"

"Yeah. Sorry I was late last night."

"That's ok, just don't make a habit of it."

"I won't" he assured her.

"Good."

Clark looked his Mom up and down, a frown playing about his feature as he took in her neat, black skirt suit. "You look very fancy today," he remarked.

Martha glanced down at her outfit, biting down on her bottom lip uncertainly. "I'm in the Metropolis office today and there's a lot of meetings. I thought this might be more appropriate. Does it look ok? It's been in the back of wardrobe for...well, a while," she admitted.

"It looks fine, it's just a change from trousers and jeans. Are you taking the truck?"

Giving a laugh, Martha's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Lionel barely tolerates it sitting in front of the mannor, so I doubt he would be impressed if I brought it to sit outside his fancy, top of the range offices. He's picking me up in the limo."

"Lionel?" Clark echoed, his frown deepening.

"Yes," Martha glanced at his as she began gathering her papers off the worktop, pushing them carefully into her bag as she gave a nonchalant shrug. "We spend all day together, calling him Mr Luthor becomes a bit over the top."

"I suppose," Clark mumbled. "Just be careful, Lex has told me what he's like."

"I know exactly what he's like," Martha assured him. She probably knew him a bit too well, but she was hardly about to admit that to her son. "You don't have to worry." Deciding that it was wise to divert Clark's attention from this subject, she told him, "I might be late back. I've left chilli in the fridge for you and there's apple pie in there as well. Don't eat all of it at once," she warned him.

Clark grinned. "You made apple pie? Awesome." He leaned back against the counter. "Is it alright if Pete and Chloe come round? It's just to do our homework."

"I don't mind. Although you might not want to relax just yet," she told him dryly, "Because I believe that's your school bus approaching"

Jumping, Clark muttered under his breath and grabbed his bag. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Have a good day Mom, I'll see you tonight."

She didn't have the chance to answer him as he disappeared, at a normal speed, out of the door. Martha watched him jog towards the bus and sighed, turning back to survey the kitchen. Other than the bowl and glass that Clark had left by the sink it was spotless, mainly because she had spent all of yesterday scrubbing every inch of the house in an effort to keep busy. Her hands knotted together anxiously and she looked down at her skirt again, maybe today wasn't the time for this. What if Lionel thought...she shook her head, mentally scolding herself, it shouldn't matter what he thought. Work was a seperate entity from any personal time they might spend together.

The crunch of gravel from the driveway drew her attention, alerting her to Lionel's arrival. She brushed her hands once more down her outfit and took in a deep, fortifying breath. It would be fine, she could do this. Lifting her bag, she rushed out of the house, her heels clicking against the wooden porch as she carefully made her way down the steps; gravel wasn't the easiest to navigate in heels, especially when you weren't actually used to them. Seth was waiting by the car door, and he gave her a warm smile of greeting, "Good morning, Mrs Kent."

"Seth, I've told you before to call me Martha," she replied. He glanced meaningfully at the interior of the car as he opened it and she gave a short laugh. "Next time then," she told him.

"I'll keep it in mind. We should be in Metropolis in about 45 minutes depending on traffic," he informed them both, as Martha slid gracefully onto the large seat.

The car door shut with a resounding clunk, and Martha glanced over to the opposite corner of the limo, where Lionel was reclining, his eyes dark as he watched her. Her head ducked and she scrambled for her seatbelt, clicking it into place before she looked over at him again. "Good morning," she greeted him after a drawn out moment.

Lionel's mouth quirked into a small, half smile. "Good morning, Martha." His eyes flickered up and down her form, the neat black suit, the red blouse, her slim, crossed legs and the black court heels, one of which was currently tapping nervously against the base of her seat. It was the only sign that belied her otherwise calm and collected exterior. "You're looking well."

"Thank you. Is there anything you'd like to go over before we get to the office?"

"No, I read over the rest of your thoughts, they were vey insightful." His eyes glanced back at her legs, it was a shame that she had kept them hidden for so long, there would be many a woman who would kill for legs like hers. "How was the rest of your weekend?"

"Fine, I caught up with some housework, nothing exciting." She wanted to cringe at her words, no doubt he would find them banal. "I suppose you bought a small country or took over another multi-million pound empire," she managed to tease.

He chuckled. "No, truth be told I was rather distracted." His eyes met hers and his smile turned almost predatory. "Everytime I looked at the sofa in my office I was overwhelmed with thoughts of an attractive red head."

Martha felt a rush of heat in her cheeks and knew that she was blushing, she glanced hurriedly at the passenger partition and was relieved to see that it was closed. "Lionel!" she hissed. "You said work would be kept seperate."

"We're not at work yet, nor are we discussing it," he pointed out.

"That's a technicallity and you know it."

"Life is full of technicalities," came the easy reply. He unclicked his seatbelt and moved swiftly so that he was suddenly seated next to her. He cupped her face, leaning into her as his lips brushed hers, kissing her softly. "I can go back to my seat if you'd like," he told her.

She relaxed slightly as he touched her, surely that should be the opposite she thought dazedly. Surely she should shrink away from him, insist on professionalism, not wrap her arms around him and slid her hands into his hair as she pulled him closer to her.

Lionel's hand ran up her leg, sliding under the material of her skirt and he smiled, breaking their kiss as he murmured deeply, "Bare legs, how daring."

"I ripped my only pair of tights," she admitted.

For a moment Lionel was drawn back to the difference between their lives, he couldn't imagine Lillian, or any other women in his life having just one of any item of clothing. Then her mouth was on his again and he simply didn't care, after all, what did it matter?"

They simply kissed, their hands exploring what they could without removing clothing until the car slowed. Martha pulled away. "I think we're here," she told him breathlessly.

Lionel sat back, unable to stop himself from grinning at the sight of wantoness that was Martha kent sprawled across his back seat, her skirt rucked up to her thighs, her hair mused. "Pity."

Martha shot him a warning look as she pulled her skirt back into place and patted her hair back into some form of respectability. "Your tie is crooked," she informed him.

He chuckled as he straightened it, the car door opening just as he finished, causing Martha to jolt. He waved his hand, eyebrow arching as he told her, "After you."

Slipping gracefully out of the limo, Martha shot Seth a small smile of thanks, relieved that his expression was unchanged, that their activites of the journey seemed to have gone un-noticed. Lionel stepped out, standing beside her as he remarked with a wide smile, "It looks to be a promising day."

* * *

Frowning at her, rather terrible shorthand, Martha squinted as she tried to make out what on earth that squiggle was, she hoped that it was simply a lapse in memory and not a sign that she needed glasses. An optician's bill was the last thing she needed. As she drew her lip between her teeth, holding the paper at a short distance, she a made a noise of triumph as she figured out what she was looking at.

Her desk was within the outer sector of Lionel's sanctum, an area of oppulence, thick carpeting and dark oak furntiture, her computer top of the range. It's almost warm atmosphere a stark contrast to Lionel's office, which was all steel and glass, the floors dark marble. The design was no doubt to lull others into a false sense of security before they entered the lions den. Still, for her at least it was a comfortable working enviroment.

On that thought, the door to the main corridor flew open and Dominic West stalked angrily into the room, his face twisted with irritation. "Unless it's urgent Mr Luthor doesn't want to be disturbed," she informed him.

His mouth twisted into a small snarl. "I'm not here to see him, I'm here to see you."

"And to what do I owe that pleasure?" She asked dryly.

"You made me look like a fool, I didn't appreciate it."

Martha sighed, she knew nothing good would have come out of Lionel's caustic comments to Dominic in the meeting. "I just did my job." She didn't add in that perhaps if he had done his then her findings wouldn't have made him look as bad.

He gave a nasty, humourless laugh. "Your job should be limited to answering phones and making coffee, I don't know why he lets you near anything else." His eyes flickered derisively over her. "You're just a small town, country hick," he spat. "I hope you're not foolish enough to think that he sees you as anything else."

Enough was enough, Martha decided as she got to her feet. "I think you should focus less on what my job is and more on yours. You could even try doing it for a day, rather than strutting around here as though you own the place."

"Very well said," came Lionel's voice from the doorway.

They both turned to see him standing there, his expression dark, inscrutable. Dominic's bluster vanished, his shoulders dropping as his voice took on that almost whining tone that Martha couldn't stand. "Mr Luthor, I didn't see you there."

"Clearly."

His eyes darted and he licked his lips nervously as he tried again, "I was just saying to Mrs Kent-"

"I heard exactly what you said." He took one small step towards them. "And I agree with Mrs Kent, that you should get on with your own job, while you still have one."

Lionel's last threat hung in the air and Dominic's eyes widened. He'd always held nothing but confidence in his postition here, he'd been the one to make threats, not receive them. His eyes slid back to the new assistant that was making his life here more uncomfortable by the day, he wondered what it was about her. She was attractive, but not Luthor's type, he didn't do wholesome. His mouth curved momentarily in distaste, before taking on a well practised subservient expression. "Of course, Mr Luthor.

Martha watched as Dominic turned on his heel and left, a wave of disquiet sweeping over her. She glanced back over at Lionel who's jaw was set in a terse line, he looked over at her and some of his tension eased. He waved a hand towards his office. "I'd like a word, if you could spare a moment."

"Of course." Martha followed him into his office, standing by his desk, she heard the thud of the large door closing behind them and the click of the lock. She turned to face him, her eyes scanning his thoughtful expression.

"You handled Dominic well," he commented.

"I'm used to his type, the ones who think the world owes them a living because of who they are, because their family is part of the elite."

"I always forget that you grew up here."

"I assume you read that in my background report," Martha remarked dryly.

He chuckled, not an ounce of shame showing on his features. "It's important to know my employees. Although I admit past noting where you were born and your impressive education, yours was brief."

"There's not much to tell."

"Oh, I very much doubt that." He took a step towards her. "You seem to have put the cat amongst the pigeons, you're forcing some of the others around here to up their game and they won't thank you for it." He took another step, closing in on her. "I on the other hand am very appreciative. His hand reached out, curving around her neck, letting her hair flow over his fingers, his thumb rubbing the curve of her jaw. "I'd like to take you out, as a...thank you for all your hard work."

Martha couldn't decide if she loved or hated the effect his close presence had on her. "Do you take all of your employees out?"

"Only the ones who save me millions on a business deal, and they've been few and far between of late." He kissed the pulse point of her neck, and smiled when he heard her sharp intake of breath. "We have meetings all day Thursday and then more early on Friday, it would make sense for us to stay in Metropolis overnight. That way I can take you for dinner, to the opera, the ballet, whatever you'd like and then back to my appartment."

She managed a soft laugh. "I can't stay in your appartment Lionel."

"No one would know, I'd book a hotel room in your name."

"And if we're seen out?"

"A business dinner."

His tone was confident, but then why wouldn't it be? If Lionel wanted something to remain quiet then it would and he had no reason to fear. She tried to rationally consider her option as his mouth teased her neck. Clark had his own life, he would likely be out or sequestered in the barn, which would mean she would be left trying to busy herself, block out her thoughts. Why shouldn't she take this one risk? It was dangerous and foolish, but she had played it safe for so long. "Ballet," she told him after a moment. "I haven't been in years."

His eyes flashed triumphantly, "Ballet it is," he told her, one hand moving to her side and slipping under her blouse, fingers lightly stroking the bare skin underneath. He smirked as she swallowed heavily. Pushing his advantage he stroked his hand over her taught stomach and upwards, curling his hand so his knuckle brushed against her sternum. His mouth back to teasing her neck.

Despite herself, Martha let out a small moan, her eyes fluttering shut. "We shouldn't, the blinds are open."

"I can fix that." Lionel reached out and pressed a button on his desk, causing the blinds to whirl into life, darkening the office into a dim light as they closed. With that done, Lionel brought his other hand up from the desk and began deftly unbutton her blouse. Her bra was black cotton, simple and something he would normally find unexciting, but he found everything about her alluring, and he took a moment to admire how it contrasting against the paleness of her skin. His fingers traced across the smattering of freckles that decorated her collarbone.

She sighed, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him to her, kissing him deeply. This was madness, this what she'd sworn to herself she wouldn't do and yet here she was, doing it anyway. "A suspicious person would think you planned this," she told him breathlessly as she broke the kiss.

"And I would take credit for it if I had," he replied. He pushed her boluse to her shoulders, pulling her bra straps down with it, enough to let her breasts slip out of the cups, his hands catching them, caressing mouth moved to the corner of her jaw, trailing soft kisses along it. He ran the pads of his thumbs around her nipples, feeling them pebble under his touch.

One of Martha's hands shot out, steadying herself on the desk, the other reaching up, cupping Lionel's cheek. Her spine arched involuntarily as his thumbs and forefingers pinched her taut nipples, a gasp falling from her lips.

His hands moved, sliding slowly down her front, brushing over sensitized skin and down her thighs until he reached the hem of her skirt. He dragged it up, almost agonizingly slowly, until it was hitched up around her waist.

Hands staying on her hips, he kissed her, nibbling softly on her bottom lip, before slipping his tongue into her mouth. Her hand curved around his head, tugging him closer. He kissed her until she was gasping for breath against his mouth, her breasts crushed against his chest they were so close. He pulled back, not missing the tiny whimper of discontentment that escaped her lips.

Hands back on her hips, he lifted her onto the desk so that she was perched on top of it. His smooth hands hands slid to the bare skin of the top her thighs, fingers stroking the soft skin. His eyes raked over her form, her red hair loose and beginning to frizz, her cheeks flushed red, blue eyes glazed. And despite the fact she was still wearing all her clothing she was almost completely exposed to his gaze, her bare breasts heaving as she tried to drag in more air, her blouse and bra both hanging loosely at her sides, while her skirt was still hitched around her waist. He knew it would take him a long time to top this sight, that he would think about her like this everytime he was in his office.

He pushed her underwear to one side and leaning forward he kissed her again, swallowing her moan. His fingers traced the damp skin of her inner thighs, moving up to her centre. She moaned into his mouth as his fingers dipped into her wetness, his thumb tapping gently against her. Lionel pulled back to watch her, sliding two fingers into her and curling them towards her stomach, watching in satisfaction as her breathing turned into high pitched pants, her fingers curling ineffectively into the desk as her hips writhed on his hand. Pressing more insistently on her, he rubbed his fingers inside of her.

Martha felt her eyes close again, she couldn't keep them open. She ground herself against his fingers, barely cognizant of the fact she was moaning. Her back arched, she was so close. She felt him lean forward, he kissed her hard, increasing the pressure of his fingers as he did so. She was almost there when he pulled away, and she made a noise of discontentment. She heard the clink of his belt and she levered herself onto her elbows, her nimble fingers closing over his hands, helping him. She pushed his trousers over his hips, her hands slipping into his boxers, finding him hard against her hand.

He steadied himself, his hands on her hips as he pulled her forward, thrusting into her, groaning against her mouth. His thrusts were hard and fast, but she met his pace, her fingers gripping at his shirt. His fingers slipped between them, teasing her. She arched and he kissed her again as she gasped against him, her back arching as she tightened around him. He didn't hold his control for long after that, a few more thrusts and he pressed deep against her, a harsh groan escaping him.

Moments passed, his mouth pressed against her neck as her fingers circled his shirt clad shoulder. "That wasn't exactly keeping it out of work," she remarked after a moment.

"No," he admitted. He hadn't planned this, hadn't thought it through when he'd touched her. He'd meant what he'd said, he kept work seperate, the women he'd had, the women he involved himself with were never associated with his work; until her. He didn't want to dwell on that thought.

Her hand pressed lightly against his shoulder and he stepped back carefully. "I should clean up," she told him.

"Of course, the washroom is just through there." He waved his hand in the direction and watched as she somehow managed to slip gracefully off the desk. As the door closed with a click behind her, Lionel began to right his clothing. He let out a deep sigh, a frown crossing his features, he was unused to losing control, the only advantage being that Martha Kent showed no interest in exploiting that. He'd meant what he'd said, about wanting to take her out, they could hardly conduct a successful affair in Smallville, it had made sense to suggest some time in Metropolis, away from prying eyes. He fastened his belt firmly, he needed to get past the initial rush, to break the allure, what better way to do that than with an entire night spent together. After that he was sure that it wouldn't all seem quite as exciting.

* * *

Martha did her best to tidy her hair into some semblance of order, although she knew she would just have to let the flush across her cheeks fade by itself. "So stupid," she whispered to herself. What had she been thinking? She didn't even try to answer that. She didn't want to care, this was a fling, it would never be anything else and no one would ever know.

She straightened her blouse, checking that she was in order before stepping back into the office. The blinds were open now, and Lionel looked as though nothing had even happened. "I need to get back to work," she told him. "Those minutes won't transcribe themselves."

"Of course," he flashed her an easy smile. "I should be finished around five today. I'll arrange the limo to collect us around quarter past."

"Ok, I'll see you then." And with that Martha stepped out of the office and went back to trying to figure out her own shorthand.


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry for the delay. Mainly just fluff and smut in this chapter. The next one will have a bit more plot.**

* * *

Martha had felt nervous all day at the thought of going on an actual date with Lionel Luthor, the butterflies in her stomach growing more and more intense as the afternoon turned into the evening. She was aware that he had insisted, firmly, that this was no date, and she had accepted that, but as it drew closer she had begun to wonder how it could possibly be classed as anything else? Going to the ballet, followed by dinner and then back to his apartment sounded like a date, what other way could it really be spun?

Martha shook her head as she gathered the last of the files, it wasn't a date because they didn't care for one another in that way. There was an attraction between them, she could admit that to herself, and they enjoyed each others company, but there would be nothing more.

She turned as she heard the now familiar creek of Lionel's large office door, his stride confident as he walked towards her. "On track?" He asked, his tone business like, verging on brusque.

"Of course."

"Good." He looked at his watch. "We'll need to leave soon. I've arranged for the car to brought around."

"Should that not be my job?" Martha teased.

His lips curved into a grin at that. "It probably should be," he replied smoothly. "But I suppose on this occasion I can let it slip."

"Very generous."

"Just don't go spreading that belief around, you'll kill my reputation."

Martha rolled her eyes. "God forbid."

Lionel chuckled, "I can't have people assuming that I'm easy to manipulate."

"Generosity isn't a weakness."

"I'm afraid that I don't have the luxury of holding that belief." His fingertips grazed her wrist as he smoothly changed the subject. "We really should go, we have to get ready."

Martha decided to let the subject drop for just now, instead asking, "So what time should I meet you at the ballet?"

Lionel's eyebrow quirked. "Meet me? You're coming with me."

"Oh, you're picking me up from the hotel?" She queried innocently as she filed the last of the paperwork on her desk.

A momentary look of suprise graced his features before a wicked grin of amusement spread across his face. "I believe we had agreed that you were going to stay at my apartment."

Martha straightened as she met Lionel's gaze. "We did, but I assumed that I would make my own way there."

He gave a short, dry chuckle, "I might be a tyrant, but even I wouldn't make you travel across the city by yourself."

"But surely we are less likely to be caught out that way."

"We won't be caught out," Lionel assured her confidently as his hand pressed against her lower back, the fingers of his other hand brushing against her cheek.

"How can you be so sure?" She asked. "You can't control this."

His mouth brushed hers, and he smiled at the way she shivered against him, her fingers gripping at his arms, pulling him closer. He drew back slightly as he told her, "I make sure that people only know what I want them to about my life."

Martha knew that she should argue against such blind confidence, that if this was to slip out then it would be her who would suffer most for it, and yet she found that she didn't want to. When Lionel touched her, when his lips brushed her forehead, his hands spanning her hips, she found that she didn't care about the risks. Later she might, but for now she was happy to ignore it. She pressed into him as she murmured, "But my clothes will be at the hotel."

Lionel shook his head. "I had Seth take your bag to the apartment."

She did draw back at that. "So...Seth knows," she replied haltingly.

"He is a trusted member of my staff, it will go no further."

Martha bit down on her bottom lip. "It's not that," she admitted. "It's just...I work for you, he knows that and now..."

"I'm sure it won't colour his view of you," Lionel replied calmly. He kissed her now furrowed brow. "It's under control, it will go no further." Lionel felt the tension in Martha's small frame. He was no fool, he was aware that Martha felt she had much to lose should this slip out, and he had no intention of letting that happen. He wanted his time with her, he wouldn't allow it to be curtailed by idle gossip. "The car will be downstairs."

Martha nodded distractedly, as she pulled out of his embrace. "Yes, I suppose we should get going."

He caught her hand. "Martha?" he breathed gently, "I promise you that I will ensure you're protected."

A small smile momentarily crossed her features, her voice soft, a note of teasing present, as she replied, "Whilst I appreciate the concern, I am capable of protecting myself. Although I'm sure many may question my decisions in this regard."

"I'm just too charming to be resisted," he chuckled.

"Although perhaps bordering on egotistical," she teased, as she let him lead her from the office, his laugh echoing in the adjoining hall.

* * *

Lionel paced his bedroom, whisky in hand, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as his mind whirled. In the background he could hear the rush of the shower and forced himself not to visualise the woman in it. He took a swig of his drink as he considered what he'd said earlier, about protecting her. Martha had brushed it off, which was a relief in many ways, but it didn't change his words. He had never uttered those words, other than Lillian he had never been overly concerned with the women he'd been involved with, until Martha Kent.

Finishing his whisky in one large mouthful, Lionel savoured the burn at the back of his throat, he was slipping he thought distractedly, he was starting to care about her. There was little use in denying it, he found her witty and interesting, he wanted her almost constantly and caught himself thinking of ways he could make her smile. He had told himself that it was simply lust, that once that initial excitement faded then she would become much more ordinary to him, her allure would vanish; but now he wondered if perhaps that wouldn't be the case. Lionel's lips thinned, drawing together tightly, he knew that any other woman he'd been with would have been overjoyed to have caught him in such a quandry, Martha wasn't one of them. She wasn't interested in securing herself a lifestyle of lavish trappings, which was one of her many attractions, but it left him in an unusual situation.

Lionel rubbed at his temples, he didn't want to think about this, not now. He wanted this to just be lust, it was simplier that way, he wanted to enjoy his time with her and then for them to both turn away, unscathed. It would be lust, he decided, it was as he'd planned it before, a brief affair that benefitted them both. He placed his glass down and turned his attention again to the sound of the shower, this time allowing himself to imagine her. His feet carried him to the door, without much in the way of thought from him and he found himself knocking - another first.

"Everything alright?" he heard her call.

"Fine," he answered almost brusquely. "May I come in?"

There was a brief beat of a pause, and then, "Of course."

Martha heard him step inside the shower-room and peered round the large, glass shower pane. "Sorry, am I taking too long?" she asked cheerily. "I've jsut finished rinsing my hair, so I'll only be two minutes."

"It wasn't that," he told her as he unbuttoned his shirt. "I thought I could join you, save on water."

"Because you're all about the enviroment?" She teased with a smirk.

"If it means I get to shower with you, then I can care."

"Oh well, if it's for the the greater good." She stepped back under the warm spray of water, a smile on her face as she heard the soft thud of his clothing hitting the floor. Staring resolutely at the wall, she rinsed the last of the conditioner out her hair. Her smile widened as she felt Lionel step into the shower behind her, his hands slipping down her sides until they landed on her waist at which point the turned her round and backed her against the wall, bracing one hand against the wall, he stroked at her hip-bone. Martha leaned forward into his embrace, kissing him and nipping at his bottom lip.

Letting out a quiet groan, Lionel pushed her firmly against the wall, kissing her fiercely before pulling back, then trailed his open mouth over her collar bone and getting to his knees, placed kisses to stomach and then lifting one leg, he placed it over his shoulder, fingers tracing circles on one inner thigh as his mouth nuzzled the other, moving slowly upward.

Martha arched her back off the cold tiles as his mouth finally moved to where she wanted it. Placing one hand against his head to keep him there, her other hand tried to grip for purchase against the steamed up glass, slipping helplessly. She moaned as his tongue moved faster, her hand flat against the glass, the other tightening in his hair, the water adding to the sensations coursing through her. She moved her hips in rhythm, muttered pleas falling from her lips. "Lionel…Oh God….Please." He moved faster, pushing her closer to the edge until the thin thread of her control snapped and she let out a harsh cry, all rational thought slipping from her mind.

Lionel moved his mouth back to her thigh, placing soft kisses to the skin, waiting for her to catch her breath again. When she did, she looked down at him and gave him a slow, lazy smile. "You look proud of yourself."

He placed a firmer kiss slightly higher up on her thigh and feeling her shudder slightly laughed against her skin before standing up and pressing her further back into the wall. Martha smiled and kissed him, tasting herself on his mouth. He broke the kiss and met her dazed gaze, and let his hand trail down her thighs he grasped the back of them and hiked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, one hand staying under her thigh and the other steadying them against the wall. Keeping her hands on his shoulders, Martha lifted herself up slightly before sinking down onto him, the bulk of her weight against the wall.

He thrust hard and fast into her as she ground her hips against him, mouths locking together. As they came closer to the edge, Lionel slowed his rhythm, drawing the moment out, Martha's mouth tearing away from his as her head fell back against the wall. Hearing the guttural moans tearing from her throat, and the way she twisted in his grasp he knew she was just as close as he was and thrust up hard one more time, revelling in her hoarse yell as he let himself go.

The following moments passed slowly as they both came down from their high, Martha's legs slipping from his waist and landing shakily on the floor, Lionel's fingers running through the damp strands of her hair, his forehead pressing against hers, his voice gutteral as he told her, "I don't even care if that saved water or not."

She laughed, "Good, because it didn't save either water or time."

He shrugged. "So we'll be late."

Martha tilted her head as she looked up at him, teasing, "Now that doesn't sound like you."

Lionel felt that small tug of disconcertion again but chose to ignore it, he was in control he reminded himself, he was always in control.

* * *

As the limo pulled up in front of the theatre, Martha felt her stomach rumble, she realised that she hadn't eaten since lunch time and now she was absolutely starving. She glanced at her, slightly battered, watch, twenty five minutes until curtain up, which meant about two and a half hours until they ate. She heard her stomach give another small grumble, well she would just need to avoid alcohol until she'd eaten.

The car door opened with a click, and she slid out, smiling up at Seth. "Thank you."

He gave a small nod, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, "Mrs Kent."

"Martha," she corrected him unthinkingly.

His gaze met hers, his voice low but not unkind as he told her, "I think perhaps I should stick to Mrs Kent."

Her smile slipped momentarily, she knew his meaning, she was no longer just another one of Lionel Luthor's staff, she was something else. What that was, she was sure was unclear to him, because it was murky even to her, but the easy camaraderie between them had slipped away. "If that's what you're more comfortable with," she replied.

She stepped forward, biting down on the inside of her cheek, she couldn't blame him but that didn't make it sting any less. She couldn't help but let her mind drift to how others would treat her should this all come out. Her fingers flickered against the side of her dress as she looked up at the imposing exterior of Metropolis theatre, this was her old world, the one she had given up. It felt like a lifetime ago that she had left that behind her, admittedly her life had been one of privilege whilst Lionel's was one of extravagence. Martha glanced down at her plain, black dress and the red wrap she had drapped round her shoulders to brighten it up slightly and focussed on the array of dazzling outfits on the other women who were entering the building. She wasn't sure she fitted in this world anymore, but then she wasn't sure that she fitted in in Smallville without Johnathan either.

Suddenly she felt Lionel at her side, his hand momentarily brushing her lower back. "You look lost in thought," he remarked.

"I'm wondering if I'm a little under-dressed," she admitted after a moment.

Lionel scanned her, her dress was somewhat unremarkable, but it fitted her perfectly, sitting snugly against her curves, the black with the red contrasting her pale skin. She had pinned her hair up, a few tendrils resting against her cheek and he knew that she could hold her own with any of the other women here. "You look wonderful," he assured her.

"I'm sure you have to say that," Martha replied, although there was the hint of a smile on her face.

"When have I ever said something simply because I should?"

She laughed. "Now that is true, you're hardly known for false platitudes."

"Exactly. Now shall we head in?" He offered her his arm.

Martha was about to take it when she paused, the glimpse of something down the street catching her eye. "Um...actually, I have to be honest, I'm absolutely starving. Give me five minutes."

Lionel followed her gaze, his charming smile slipping ever so slightly as he took in the hot dog stand that had caught her attention. "I have booked dinner."

"I know, but I really don't think I can wait that long." She nudged his arm playfully, "You should be flattered, I need to refuel after your earlier attentions."

"Nice try, but I'd still rather avoid street food."

She gave a shrug and an almost gleeful smile. "I won't buy you one then."

He watched as she walked away and a frown crossed his features, he wasn't used to being ignored and yet she had dismissed him without a second thought. Letting out a grumbling mutter, he followed her down the busy sidewalk, keeping the bright flash of her red wrap in his vision. When he caught up with her, she was already ordering.

"Have you changed your mind?"

"No," he assured her firmly.

"Ok, I suppose I could be persuaded to let you have a bite of mine."

"Again, I'll pass."

"Your loss."

Lionel's nose wrinkled as she handed over her money, although he had to force back a smile at the sight of her taking the first bite, her eyes closing in bliss. "It can't be that good,"

"But it is," They moved away from the cart, ambling back to the theatre. Martha held it out, her eyes glinting in amusement as she asked, "Are you sure you don't want some?" She wiggled it in front of his face. "It's good."

"I prefer my food without a side of salmonella," he replied dryly.

"And here I thought you liked to live dangerously."

"Even I have my limits."

"Well, you're missing out."

Lionel gave a sigh and glanced at her in amusement. "Fine," he replied after a moment. "I'll allow you to persuade me."

Martha's eyes sparkled as she turned to him and held out the hot dog. "And I didn't even have to dare you."

Mumbling under his breath, Lionel took it from her and took a bite before handing it back. She watched him and once again he wondered why seeing hersmile had such an effect on him. He swallowed carefully and told her, "It wasn't the worst thing I've eaten."

"Such high praise." She finished it off and brushed the cheap paper napkin across her hands before throwing it into a nearby rubbish bin.

"Better?"

"Much. Now if I have something to drink at the ballet you won't need to carry me out."

"That was an option?" He asked, as she slid her arm through his, her hand resting on forearm.

"I'm sure you'll survive without it." Martha relaxed against Lionel's side. In moments like this, even on a busy street, when it was just the two of them she understood why she wanted to take this risk, she liked how he made her feel. She just had to be careful not to get herself in too deep, she reminded herself.

* * *

Martha laughed, slightly tipsy as they stumbled into Lionel's apartment later that evening. His arm shot out to steady her, pulling her into his embrace as he did so. "I had a wonderful night," she told him. "Thank you."

"The pleasure was all mine." His hand slid up her back, toying with the zip on her dress."Now, do you want me to help you out of this?"

She didn't reply, instead she turned in his embrace as her answer, letting him slide the zip down. She took another step forward and let the dress slip to a puddle at her feet. Her lips curved into a smile at the sound of his breath catching, she had worried about pleasing him, she had seen the string of women who were linked with him in the tabloids and she didn't match that body type at all, but she'd quickly found that she was surprisingly confident around him. Perhaps it was the knowledge that this was nothing but a fling, that really it didn't matter. That being said, she had pulled her one and only expensive lingerie set for the night, a red lacy number, rather than her usual black and white cotton.

Lionel stepped closer, his hands running up her hips and settling on her waist, his fingers brushing her soft skin as he kissed the back of her neck. "I want you," he told her, his voice gutteral.

"I want you too," she told him. She turned and took his hand, leading him towards his bedroom, pushing him onto the bed, stepping in-between his knees, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off and over his shoulders, returning to trace her hands over his chest, fingers curling against his skin

As his hands slid over her waist and spanned her rib cage, Martha gave a shiver and a small moan. Her head falling back slightly as he unclipped her bra, pulling the flimsy material away from her, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

His hands fastening around her waist, Lionel lowered himself onto his back and then rolled them so that he was on top of her, his hand sliding up to cup her breast, his thumb brushing slowly back and forth across the tightening nipple.

Breaking their kiss, he moved to fasten his mouth onto the neglected breast, tugging the taut bud into his mouth, suckling hard. Martha's back arched, her head falling backwards she gasped, her mouth falling open. "Lionel," she whispered.

She felt him smile against her skin, and her hands trailed to his waist, fingers deftly undoing his belt buckle, she somehow managed to manoeuvre his trousers off and onto the floor. As her fingers dipped teasingly underneath the band of his boxers, he pushed his hips into hers, his erection grinding against her centre, provoking a sharp gasp from her.

Lifting his weight up onto one arm, Lionel stared down at Martha, his fingers still toying with her nipple. His eyes darkened as he took in the way her hair flamed against the pillows, and admired the blush that was spreading across her body, along with the glistening glow of the tiny beads of sweat forming on her skin. Smiling, he let his hand trail lazily down her side and tugged the barely there scrap of lace she was still wearing off her hips.

He pressed a small kiss to her naval, before nuzzling the soft skin of her inner thighs, revelling in her mewl of delight. His hands grasping under her knees, he spread her legs further apart and pressed a hard closed mouth kiss to her clit, before pulling it into his mouth, laving it gently with his tongue. Moving one hand from her leg, he let his fingers dance along her opening, before pushing insistently inside her, scissoring his two fingers, stretching her, and then pressing forward until she gave a sharp moan.

Martha felt her toes curl into the bed sheets, her hands flying toLionel's head, holding him where he was as her hips began to undulate softly against his sinful mouth. She bit down on her lip. It was so good she wanted to scream. Her breath was coming in pants now, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold on for.

His fingers twisted again, his mouth becoming more insistent. Every gasp and groan made his need to push her to edge grow. Her grip in his hair tightened, and her legs wrapped around his head as she arched, a babbling stream of incoherent words falling from her mouth as her muscles clenched in a series of powerful spasms.

When the rush had finally past, Martha blinked her eyes open slowly, her glazed green eyes locking onto his almost predatory gaze. She licked her lips invitingly as he moved up the bed towards her, kicking off his boxers on the way.

She pulled him towards her, her legs locking around his waist, she bucked her hips into his, smiling against his skin when he groaned harshly. Moving slightly, he pushed his hips forward, sinking into her heated flesh with a ragged groan. "You feel so good," he told her.

Martha gave a moan in lieu of a reply, thrusting up against him as her teeth scrapped the skin of his shoulder.

They moved together slowly. His thrusts growing more forceful as he moved deeper within her, hands exploring sweat soaked skin. Their gasps of delight mingling and breaking through the silence of the room.

"Faster," Martha whispered, her moans growing louder as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. She searched for his hand with hers, her fingers entwining with his when she found it. They pressed their foreheads together, mouths open as they both struggled for breath.

Twisting his hips slightly, Lionel thrust hard, prompting a sharp scream from Martha as her muscles began to convulse. Groaning harshly, Lionel kissed her hard and pressed deep inside her as his own release washed over him, the resulting spasms wracking his body.

As they came down from their combined high, the kiss grew more languid, and they stayed locked together, their hips still rocking slowly together. Pushing a damp strand of hair off her forehead, Lionel stared into her dazzling blue eyes. He saw her smile, and felt her hand caress the side of his face. She curled into his side, her eyes closing. "I think you might have tired me out," she told him.

"Well, I aim to please."

She gave a quiet chuckle that turned into a small moan as he slipped from her. She could hear his heart still hammering in his chest, felt it begin to slow and even out, and she was lulled into sleep while still in his arms.

Lionel pressed a kiss to Martha's forehead and closed his own eyes, chosing to ignore the growing disquiet in his mind to follow her into sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**This chapter is based around the episode Skinwalker. So is mainly based between scenes, starting after Clark has the Willowbrooks round for dinner.**

 **Thanks for the reviews so far :)**

* * *

The iron hissed as Martha tackled the mountain of clothing before her, struggling to keep her attention on Clark as he railed against her. "You took his side!" He remarked in disbelief. "You actually defended Lionel Luthor!"

Martha sighed as she flipped one of Clark's shirts over, attempting to straighten out the collar. "Smallville needs those jobs," she heard herself repeat for what felt like the thousandth time. "If it weren't for LuthorCorp this town would have died years ago."

Her tone was flat, factual, but if anything this seemed to irritate her son. "Those caves are part of history, we need to protect them, not replace them with offices!"

"I'm sure there is a compromise to be reached."

"No," Clark shook his head. "Lionel Luthor doesn't compromise, you need to get him to back off." He ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "Those pictures, the messages, they could explain who I am!"

"I can hardly tell Lionel to stop a multi million dollar construction deal based upon that information, Clark!" She looked up at him in exasperation. "Think rationally for a moment, we can't tell anyone where you came from, so I can't dispute this deal based upon their possible link to you."

"But you could argue it from a historic point of view," he reminded her triumphantly.

"Which would cost Smallville hundreds of jobs." She put the iron down to rub at her temples. "I understand why this is important to you, and I don't disagree but-"

"But you're putting profit before anything else," Clark finished for her.

"No!" Martha insisted. "I'm trying to think practically, if we can both work together then there is the potential to save the caves and keep this opportunity within Smallville."

"What does it matter if LuthorCorp moves elsewhere, surely that's a good thing." Clark folded his arms across his chest. "Lionel Luthor has enough of a hold on this community.

"Clark, look around you. We are one of the few farms left within a previously thriving farming community. Those farms created jobs, they created Smallville, if we don't replace the opportunities for work then families will be forced to leave in droves. If that happens then it's more difficult to keep this farm afloat, if there's no-one to sell to then we go under," she concluded firmly.

Clark made a sound of disgust at the back of his throat. "I never thought you could be so money orientated, we should be trying to preserve this! Kyla says-"

"I'm not going to base my decisions on the input of a teenage girl!" Martha finally snapped.

"Well maybe you should, after all it's her heritage that you want to destroy!"

"I don't want to destroy it Clark, I just want us to try and build a future for this town-"

"Yeah, while knocking down anything that might stand in the way," Clark concluded firmly. "I'm going to bed, I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Martha sighed as she heard him stomp up the stairs. She sunk her head into her hands, her elbows leaning on the unsteady board. That did not go well. She tried to gather her rather jumbled thoughts. She could see Clark's point, she appreciated that he wanted to preserve a historical site, she wasn't against that, but she also didn't want to lose the prospect of improving Smallville, of creating more opportunities. Shaking her head, she wondered if perhaps she was channelling Lionel, or at least his P.R. statement. The decision to build in Smallville had been made before she started, but she had had input, and she had discussed the benefits to the community with Lionel, whilst she pushed for added benefits not only within the project but also within job roles at LuthorCorp. Perhaps that did make her biased.

She looked at the ever growing basket of ironing that awaited her and with a grumble went back to the task at hand, her brain whirring throughout. She didn't want to think that her personal relationship with Lionel was shifting her perceptions, she wanted to believe that she would have made the same decision regardless. Bitiing down on her bottom lip Martha ran through her reasoning once more, the jobs it would bring, the boost to the local economy and told herself that of course she would have made the same arguement. Idealism didn't always fit in with real life.

* * *

"Thank you Sheriff, that's very enlightening," Lionel remarked.

"I'll keep you posted Mr Luthor."

"Thank you."

Martha shot Ethan a smile of greeting as she entered the room just as she was leaving, only catching the last few words of the previous conversation. She glanced over to where Lionel was still pounding away on the treadmill, making it look almost irritatingly easy. "Lionel, what's going on? I thought the police were done with their investigation."

"Well the Sheriff's not ready to call it an accident. Apparently Joseph Willowbrook, the Native American, who is spear-heading the protests has a history of civil disobedience."

"They think it was sabotage?"

"Let's just say they're not ruling it out." He hit the stop button on his treadmill and made a noise of irritation. "Maybe I should have done this project in Granville."

"Smallville needs those jobs," Martha reminded him as he jumped gracefully off the machine.

He managed a small, wry grin of amusement. "So you've told me."

She ignored his needling, knew that he wanted her to rise to his bait, he enjoyed teasing her about her commitment to her job at times and would often remark that he wished all her staff shared that drive. Instead she sat across from him as she updated him. "I've sent flowers to the foreman's family, and I arranged for you to do a condolence call tomorrow afternoon."

"Good thinking, I don't want to be perceived as uncaring."

"I didn't do it for that reason, I did it because it's the right thing to do."

Lionel looked at her thoughtfully. "You know there are times when I'm with you, that I could swear I was talking to my wife." He saw her look of surprise and placed his hand over hers as he continued. "You don't often remind me of her, but one trait you share is that unflinching honesty. I've missed that."

He was so busy watching the nuances of Martha's expression that he was unaware of Lex's prescence until he spoke. "I hope I'm not interupting ."

Martha jumped to her feet as though she'd been scalded, even going so far as to take a step back. "Hi Lex."

Lionel was calmer. "Ah Lex, always good to see you, Son."

"Well, I need to get home early today," Martha told them hurriedly, feeling her skin begin to heat. "So I'll see you both tomorrow."

Her heels echoed on the stone floors as she walked briskly away, and Lionel wished that he could call her back. He glanced at his son to see a flicker of suspicion cross his face. He took a gulp of water before remarking, "Believe me Lex, I know how hard you've been working. You engineered an employee buyout of the Smallville Plant, now look at you." He clasped his shoulder firmly. "You're building an empire of your own without my help, but your success shouldn't prevent us from joining forces when a lucrative venture comes along."

Lex gave a wry shake of his head. "Come on Dad, you don't need me as an investor in some random office park."

"No, not as investor, lex, I want you as my partner. Blame it on a brief bout of sentimentality."

He made to walk away, believing his point to be made. Lex however wasn't satisfied. "Sentimentality is a vulnerability, you taught me that. You're on your own."

Lionel chuckled and shrugged, he'd taught his son well at least. "Think it over Lex, there are benefits."

"For you, I'm sure." Lex's eyes narrowed. "And just what benefit are you trying to get from Martha Kent?"

Lionel turned at that, his face expressionless and his voice low and calm as he replied, "I'm not sure I follow you, Lex, she's my executive assistant and a very good one at that."

"I don't believe it's as clear cut as that. I heard what you said to her, and I'm not convinced that this little show you've just put on wasn't an attempt to distract me."

"Yes son, because I base my business decisions on distraction techniques," Lionel remarked dryly.

Lex took a step forward, his eyes narrowed. "You took her to the ballet."

"I did." Lionel smiled and leaned forward, his voice lowering in a tone of mock conspiracy as he added, "Was that meant to be a secret?"

"You've never taken your assistants anywhere. Hell, some of them you've not even allowed in the same car as you."

"She noticed a very useful loophole and saved me a fortune." He gave a shrug, "I find her company refreshing and as we both had to stay overnight in Metropolis anyway, I offered to take her out for an evening as a thank you." He gave a small shake of his head. "Honestly Lex, you can come across as worryingly paranoid about the Kents."

There was a momentary flash of irritation that crossed Lex's face before he gathered himself and replied calmly, "I know you, Dad, you don't simply do thoughtful gestures unless you stand to gain something from them. What I haven't figured out yet is what you think you stand to gain from her. She'll never sell you that farm if it's the land you're after."

Lionel felt his growing discomfort with Lex's questioning begin to fade with that last comment, for a few moments he had feared that he was bordering on discovering the truth. "You think it's about land?"

"It might be." Lex tilted his head thoughtfully, "I haven't decided yet."

"Ah well, let me know when you do, so I know what dastardly role I'm playing in your world this week." Lionel turned away, calling over his shoulder, "And consider my offer."

* * *

Clark looked up from his homework as Martha walked almost shakily into the kitchen. He got to his feet, reaching out as he asked, "Mom, are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Martha assured him as she dropped her keys onto the counter. "A wolf tried to attack me, in the car park at work."

"A wolf?" Clark echoed, Chloe's earlier words playing across his mind.

"Yes." She sank down onto the kitchen stool. "I thought they were extinct in Smallville." She shook her head. "It was the oddest thing, it appeared out of nowhere and then disappeared just as quickly. I almost feel like I imagined it."

Clark towered over her, "Are you hurt?" he asked anxiously.

"No," Martha shook her head. "Just surprised, I wasn't exactly expecting it." She looked up and squeezed her son's arm. "Honestly, I'm fine, I shouldn't have mentioned it-"

"Of course you should have!" Clark protested.

"Well it's done with and I'm fine." Martha forced herself to try and relax, and attempting to change the subject she told him with a teasing smile, "It's nice to see you home for a change, you've been out so much with Kyla, I almost feel like you don't live here."

Clark looked away, almost uncomfortably. "I can be myself around her," he admitted. "For the first time in my life I feel like everything fits, like we're destined to be together."

Martha had to stop herself from narrowing her eyes at that turn of phrase, especially as it didn't quite fit with Clark's current demeanour. "But still there's something wrong?" As he glanced away guiltily, Martha gave a soft sigh. "I know we haven't seen eye to eye on this current situation with Joseph and LuthorCorp, but I can put that to one side, if you'd like to talk. I'm not going to hold any of the allegations against her Grandfather against Kyla."

"The false allegations," Clark reminded her unthinkingly.

"Well we can still put all of that to one side, talk this out, if you'd like," Martha offered calmly, almost hopefully.

After a moment Clark gave a curt nod. "I have these feelings for Kyla, and I don't want to doubt her but I don't think she's being totally honest with me."

"Sometimes people keep secrets Clark and it's not down to a lack of feeling or trust in the other person, it could be fear of how someone will react. We can't really judge others for hiding something, maybe given time she'll open up to you more."

"Mom...it's not that, I could deal with that, after all we haven't really known each other that long so I would understand it...it's...it's that I think she knows more about the foreman's death than she's telling me."

"Oh." Martha felt her shoulders drop. "Clark, if that's what you think she's hiding-"

"I don't know, I...Chloe said that there the post mortem on the foreman discovered wolf's teeth marks and that Kyla's tribe is known as skinwalkers with the legnd being they have the ability to transform." He groaned and sunk his head into his hands. "That sounds insane when I say it, but then half the stuff that happens round here is insane." He shook his head. "I don't know what to do, I can hardly go to the police and tell them I think that Joseph might be able to turn into a wolf."

Martha squeezed his hand. "Clark, a man is dead. And if you think that Kyla knows something about that then you need to act.

"I know," he muttered sadly.

"I know this isn't easy for you Clark, but I also know that you'll do the right thing, whatever that is."

"Yeah." Clark got to his feet and gathered her into a hug. "Thanks, Mom."

"Anytime."

He drew back from her and added almost sheepishly, "I still think that the caves should be preserved. I just don't understand how you can be on Lionel Luthor's side for this one."

She sighed, "Oh Clark, of course I'd like to see the caves preserved, but I also want to see this town grow."

"I get that, but there's other places for those offices to be built."

"Not in Smallville."

"Nearby then, a middle ground," he suggested.

"In an ideal world, maybe, but suitable land is limited."

"I just can't believe that your putting profit over a piece of history. I know how much you like your job, I just don't think you should have to change your principles for it."

"I don't believe that's what I'm doing."

"It kind of looks like that from where I'm sitting," Clark told her. He frowned as he continued, "If Dad was here and if you didn't work for Lionel Luthor, then I feel like you would be on a different side."

"Clark, I can't guess how I would feel if those things were different."

"I know, I dunno, I guess I'm just a bit disapointed, that's all." He shuffled uncomfortably for a second before announcing, "I'm going to call it a night." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

Martha watched him go, his words playing on her mind. She looked around her quiet kitchen and suddenly felt very unsure of herself, as well as realising just how alone she was. When she was with Lionel she forgot all of that, he made her feel as though she mattered and perhaps that had impacted on her views. She'd never thought she'd be sitting in her forties wondering if lust was clouding her judgement.

* * *

Stepping into Lionel's office, Martha asked, "So, do I need to look for a new job?"

Lionel looked up from the papers strewn across his desk, his lips drawing together tightly as he told her, "On this occassion I shall let your transgression slide, after all the project was lost regardless."

"Lionel, I did what I thought was right."

"You back-pedalled. Admittedly you did so with grace but some warning would have been appreciated."

Martha folded her arms across herself. "I'll admit that I've had some doubts for a few days, but it was only in that moment that I realised I couldn't simply stand to one side and let those caves be destroyed. Progress for the sake of progress isn't what I want to see."

"Yes, well it appears that the planning commitee agrees with that sentiment." He leaned back in his chair and sucked in a breath between his teeth as he glanced down at his calcualations once again. "This has been an unfortunate interlude, but LuthorCorp should be able to move this project elsewhere and with a few adjustment we may avoid too much of a financial loss."

"Dependent on the adjustments, it might be beneficial to take the loss this quarter if it will improve the profit and company morale long term."

"I'm willing to hear your ideas."

Martha hesitated momentarily before stating "Lionel, I hope that your decision not to fire me isn't based upon our personal relationship."

Getting to his feet, Lionel told her, "I admit that I would have dismissed any of my last assistants without a second thought if they pulled that kind of stunt."

Giving a small nod of understanding, she replied, "Then I don't feel comfortable staying on, I don't want special treatment just because we're sleeping together."

He chuckled, "You misunderstand me, my last assistants were disapointing to say the least, whereas you have consistently surpassed my expectations with each and every task you have been set. That we have a personal relationship doesn't impact the decisions I'll make regarding my business."

"So what would you have done? Had I been incompetent?" She asked curiously.

Standing in front of her, his hands curved around her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing small circles on the material of her blouse. "I would have dismissed you, whilst suggesting that we continue to see each other."

Martha let out a small noise of disbelief. "You can't believe that would work."

His smile was almost conspiratory as he leaned forward, his forehead close to hers. "Ah, but you forget that I would turn on my charm."

Unable to help herself, Martha laughed and smacked his shoulder. "Even you aren't that charming."

He made a tsking sound. "How you wound me."

"You'll heal."

He laughed, his mouth finding hers, kissing her deeply, drawing her into his embrace.

She couldn't seem to help herself from kissing him back, when he touched her she felt her common sense flee. After a few moments she finally broke the kiss, her voice breathy as she forced herself to tell him, "Lionel, the lines are getting blurred, at least they are for me."

Lionel felt his breath catch at her words, he knew they were true but it was the one of the last things he wanted to hear from her. "I know they are," he told her after a brief silence. There was no point denying it.

"We said if that happened-"

"I remember what we said," he interupted. His fingertips ran across her jaw, his voice a low murmur as he continued, "But I don't think either one of us wants to call a halt to this so soon."

"It can't always be about what we want. Lionel, it's only been a few weeks and already it seems so complicated."

"But do you feel it's worth the complications?" He whispered next to her ear. He wasn't a fool, he knew the effect he had on her, after all she had the same effect on him. Before this he had never cared when his relationships - if they could be called that - ended, they held a brief amount of his attention for a short time, but they had never meant anything to him, until now. He knew that this would have to end, but he wanted more, more time with her, what he didn't want to do was to ask himself just why Martha meant so much to him.

"We...we need to be more careful," she managed after a minute. "And I won't compromise who I am, what I believe in."

"That is one of the things I so admire about you, Martha," he told her honestly. "And I meant what I said, this won't interfere with business."

Martha knew this was madness, that she should walk away, but God help her she couldn't bring herself to do it. So instead she sunk into his embrace again and let herself forget again.

* * *

Lionel looked at his Private Investigator, his eyes narrowed as he asked, "So what did you find?"

"So far not much, well, not about the caves anyway."

Irate, Lionel asked, "Did you find anything else?"

"Just that Lex continues with his investigations into Clark Kent, I'm unsure why, from what I can gather he has yet to find anything."

Lionel's eyes narrowed, his fingers drumming against his desk. Lex was no fool, if he continued to look into the Kent boy then there must be a reason for it. Lionel already had someone looking into Smallville, into the meoters and the rocks that they had left behind, perhaps he should look into this as well. He leaned back in his chair, that boy had an uncany ability to turn up just when he was needed, and despite crashing into multiple dangerous situations he always came out unscathed. Martha claimed the boy was lucky, but perhaps there was more to it than that. He felt a tug of discomfort at the thought of looking into Martha's son behind her back, but if there was nothing to find then she would never know. Still, he hesitated before he finally told his investigator, "Perhaps we ought to see just what it is that intrigues my son so much about this boy"

"Very well, Mr Luthor, I'll get right on it."

"Ah, and have his office wired while you're at it. Lex will let something slip at some point, and when he does, I'll be waiting."

Watching him go, Lionel leaned back in his chair. Martha would never know, he told himself again. He needed to know what Lex was up to, needed to bring him to heel, and if knowing what intrigued him so much about Clark Kent would help him to do so quicker then he had to do it.

As Martha had said, the lines between them were blurring, and they had agreed they would ensure that they didn't let their personal relationship interfere with business. That was simply what he was doing here, seperating their relationship from his professional life, and if she never knew then it could never hurt them. The thought rang hollow in his own ears.

* * *

 **Maybe one more chapter and then we'll probably head into Insurgence.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank you for all your lovely reviews. The next chapter will be Insurgence, which I'm looking forward to tackling.**

* * *

Lionel watched, a smile playing about his lips as he watched Martha make her way easily around the room, putting items away whilst her eyes stayed rivetted on the file he had given her to read. She used her hip to close a filing cabinet and he couldn't help but chuckle at how well she knew her surroundings. At that she looked up, "Something amusing?" she asked.

"I find it entertaining to watch you work, you become emersed." He held his hands out as he added, "It certainly isn't a complaint."

"I should hope not."

Lionel nodded towards the file in her hands. "I'm intrigued to hear your thoughts."

Martha shrugged. "It was what I expected." There was no chair in front of Lionel's desk and so she balanced herself on the edge of his desk instead, crossing one leg over the other.

"But you're disapointed," he remarked calmly.

"Of course," she admitted. "I wanted Smallville to benefit from this proposal, moving the project to Granville removes any possibility of that."

"The only piece of suitable land in Smallville is too small for the project."

"I know." She glanced down at file once more and her forehead furrowed.

"What are you thinking?"

"Granville has a much smaller population and less land potential for residential developments than Smallville."

"That is true," he acknowledged, "But for a project of this magnitude it's now the only option. Granville is commutable from here so there may still be some benefits for the residents of Smallville."

"We do have another option, we could divide the project," she suggested.

Lionel shook his head. "The portion of land left over if we exclude the areas that are now under preservation is too small to support even half of this build."

"I wasn't going to to suggest halving it." She flicked open the folder to the figures and projections. "The land in Smallville can support a third of the project, by cutting the Granville project by that amount you remove the concerns of their local planning authority in regards to the town beinig able to support a workforce of that size."

He smiled, he enjoyed watching her when she was passionate about something, her cheeks would flush and her eyes glow, whilst her foot was currently tapping agitatedly against his desk. However, this was his business and although he might want to indulge her where possible he knew she wouldn't appreciate an indulgence in this. "You're right, but I'm confident that planning will eventually rule in our favour and it's not enough to justify two builds, it would increase our costs."

"Not necessarily. The Smallville offices won't take long to build, you can split the teams for the beginning of the project or alternatively use a smaller team once the Granville offices are into the final stages. You can also save costs by removing the helipad which would be excessive in a smaller build."

"The helipad is for my ease."

Martha looked up and rolled her eyes. "Honestly Lionel, how often are you going to visit those offices?"

He shuffled in his seat, loathe to admit that she may have a point. "If I have multiple visits to make in a day then I don't always have time to drive between them."

"I would have thought that saving a couple of million on something that will hardly ever be used would provide a greater saving." She met his stare. "And there is a helipad at the Smallville plant, I'm sure if you spoke to Lex-"

"If Lex thought I needed it he would most definitely turn me down," Lionel assured her quickly. "However, I am willing to concede that you may have locked onto a valid, workable solution to our current problems. What it needs is costing to back it up and a more in depth proposal."

"I can look into that," Martha assured him quickly.

He chuckled, "Of that I have no doubt, what I had in mind was that we discuss this over dinner tonight. Lex is going out, so we wouldn't be interupted. Unless of course you need to get home for Clark."

"No, what with it being a Friday Clark has decidedly better places to be than sitting at home with his Mother." She raised an eyebrow at him as she added, "Although why do I get the feeling that you don't simply want this evening to focus on business?"

Lionel smiled as he got to his feet, rounding his desk to stand in front of her. "Because you know me far too well," he laughed. His hands slid into her hair, tilted her face upwards. "It's been far too long since we had time together, proper time."

"It's been two weeks."

"Exactly."

"And this would most definately be mixing business with pleasure," she reminded him.

"Undoubtably," Lionel admitted. "But we're grown adults, we can surely seperate the two in our heads."

He lowered his mouth to kiss the curve of her neck and Martha let out a soft sigh. "That's not fair, you know I can't concentrate when you do that."

"Always make use of anything that can press your advantage," he murmured against her skin.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt his hand sneak underneath the hem of her blouse, caressing her waist. She had missed this, had missed him, of course she saw him most days but often they were in the company of others or their attention was focussed on matters of work and it simply wasn't the same as being with him in this way. Pressing her hand against the back of his head, she encouraged him even as she vaguely realised how dangerous her last thought had been. Lionel Luthor wasn't a man that many would consider letting their guard down around and she knew it was madness for her to do so and yet here she was. Pressing her hand against his chest, she applied just enough pressure to get his attention. "I can stay for a while," she told him. "But business first."

His smile was triumphant. "You drive a hard bargain but I believe that we have a deal."

* * *

Martha curled her feet underneath her, cradling her wine glass in one hand as she relaxed back against the sofa and glanced across at Lionel. "So, how does it look now?"

"Workable," he admitted. "If we have the numbers right then it could be the right solution. I'll have them checked for Monday and we can take it from there." He leaned forward and clinked his wine glass against hers. "Very impressive work."

"Well I had the right motivation, I want Smallville to have a future. That and I'm starving and now that that's done can we please eat?" She asked laughingly.

"Absolutely." He reached for the phone. "Any requests?"

"Uh no." She shifted slightly uncomfortably in her seat, as Lionel issued his commands to the kitchen staff, still unused to the trappings of wealth that surrounded him, the army of staff that was ready to jump at his every whim.

When he hung up he looked over at her. "It shouldn't be long, which is just as well because I have yet to allow hot dog vendors on the property."

"More fool you," Martha teased.

Lionel shifted towards her, ready to place his hand on her leg, to lean into her and draw her close when the door to the office opened suddenly. He drew back just as Lex strolled into the room and he felt Martha straighten beside him.

Lex glanced between his Father and Martha Kent as he remarked, "I hope your overtime rate is generous, Mrs Kent, you're certainly kept long enough to have earned an increased rate." He looked at Lionel, adding, "Dad, I'm aware that you don't have a social life, but that doesn't mean you should deprive your staff of one. No wonder you've driven her to drink."

Martha saw Lionel bristle and intervened smoothly. "Your Father was indulging me by listening to a business idea that I had, we were looking at the figures, and Lex I've told you before to call me Martha."

Lex managed a smile that actually reached his eyes. "You know by making him sound reasonable he'll never see the error of his ways."

"Very amusing Lex, now is there anything we can help you with?" Lionel asked. "I had thought you were going out tonight."

"I am, I'm just getting a book for Helen, she mentioned wanting to read it and I remember seeing a copy in here."

Lionel tsked. "I hope it's not one of the first editions, I'm loathe to lose such a valuable asset to one of your...diversions."

"Helen isn't a diversion," Lex barked irrately.

Looking between Father and Son, Martha intervened again. "Clark told me about her, a doctor, very impressive." She ignored Lionel's eye roll as he sat back against the sofa.

"Not impressive enough for some it would seem." Lex gave an annoyed sigh as he decided, "I'll get it another time, I'm not keen to stand here whilst you berate my life choices...again."

"Make better choices and I won't have the need to pass comment," Lionel replied calmly.

"I seem to recall being held hostage by one of your 'choices' only two months ago."

"Yes, well, we always want better for our children."

"I'm sure it's more about your legacy than any genuine concern for me." Lex managed to smile in Martha's direction. "I hope you get out of here at some point, I unfortunately won't be back tonight so I can't provide a rescue."

"I'm sure I'll manage. Have a good night, Lex."

He flashed a smile. "I wish I could say the same, try not to let him ride you too hard."

Martha felt her smile freeze on her face and she could see Lionel press his hand to his mouth, his eyes glinting with barely supressed amusement. She didn't trust herself to speak, thankfully Lionel's calm voice cut through the silence with a firm, "We need to get back to work, good night Lex."

Lex left without another word and once the door had closed with a resounding thud, Lionel couldn't stop himself from laughing and he turned to Martha as he remarked, "My son certainly seems to have a way with words."

Martha felt her cheeks burn. "I think the less said about that the better."

Still chuckling, he assured her, "He doesn't know anything." He waved his hand dismissively. "He would have reacted more if he had any suspicions, he'll forget all about it on this date of his." He drew out the word date as though it were distasteful to him.

"You don't like her then," Martha stated.

"I assume she is a step up from his last serious relationship, Desiree." Lionel made a scoffing noise at the back of his throat. "The name alone should have been warning enough."

"I don't think that Lex can be held entirely accountable for that, she had an...unusual effect on the male population."

"But it was Lex who was fool enough to marry her. She was a gold-digger and there's nothing to say that his tastes have improved."

"I've only heard good things about her." She laughed at Lionel's look of surprise. "It's a small town, people talk." Giving a shrug, she added, "And it doesn't matter if you don't approve."

"Of course it does," he protested. "There is the Luthor name to think about."

Martha ignored that statement. "You cannot dictate who Lex cares for and if you persist in trying then you'll push him away."

"Lex might have the odd rebellion, but he knows where his loyalties lie, with family."

"If he loves her then he'll make her his family."

"You think I should step back," he stated.

"If you stand in opposition you could very well just push them closer together."

"I can manage this," Lionel assured her confidently.

Martha took a sip of her wine. "I'm sure that's what my Father thought."

Lionel looked at her with interest. "He didn't approve of Jonathan Kent? Salt of the Earth, pillar of the local community."

"He couldn't see that, all he could see was a small town farmer and that wasn't what he wanted for me. He wanted better." Martha meet his gaze. "He thought Jonathan was a phase, that I would get bored and realise that he was just a bit of rough. When Jonathan asked for permission to marry me he acted as though it was just a joke, Jonathan lost his temper and there was a fight."

Lionel raised an eyebrow, he wasn't surprised that Jonathan Kent had lost his temper, he had been a moral man but he had been hotheaded and often acted without thinking through the consequences. "So your Father gave you an ultimatum?" He guessed.

"He did, and Jonathan left, he said that he didn't want to come between me and my family. I went after him and I didn't look back."

It had been a clever move on Jonathan's part, he mused, to be the bigger man and wait to reap the rewards. Of course there was the possibility that he hadn't considered that aspect. "Do you regret it?"

A small, sad smile played across Martha's face. "That I chose Jonathan, no, but I wish the circumstances could have been different." She ran one finger around the rim of her glass. "Just be careful Lionel, you're not as invulnerable as you might like to think."

"You very nearly sound like you care," Lionel teased her, moving closer to her on the sofa.

Martha tilted her head to look up at him, unable to help herself from smiling. She did care, she believed that Lionel did love his son even if she didn't agree with his parenting style. Although she didn't want to admit she cared when she was so unsure just how far the feeling ran, it wasn't love but she couldn't say in all honesty that it was simply lust anymore either. "Of course I care," she replied. "You sign my paychecks."

"So mercenary," he chuckled, moving her hair off her shoulder so he could press a kiss to just below her ear. "I suppose I'll just have to accept it." She turned into his embrace just as his phone rang. With a sigh, he answered it and after a moment hung up and told her, "It appears dinner is ready." He got to his feet and offered her his hand. "Shall we?" As she took it, Lionel couldn't help but pull her into him again. "A rain check, for now."

"I hope you're not going to keep me too long."

* * *

Caution thrown to the wind, Martha let Lionel lead her down the long hallway to his bedroom, gasping when he kissed her and pressed her onto the bed, covering her with his own body seconds later, his mouth lowering to hers again. He rolled them to the side so that he could unzip the back of her dress, as her hands drifted across the warm skin of his back, round to his chest and down to his stomach, fingers swirling through the hair there, fingers nimbly undoing his belt and shoving his trouser and boxers to the floor with a thud. Her hand skimmed his length and she let out a small sigh of satisfaction.

She shifted slightly to facilitate the removal of her dress, he drew it down her thighs running the palms of his hands back up, over her stomach and then cupping her breasts. Her head tilted back, a whimper eking out from her lips as he drew his mouth over the swell of her breasts, his hands slipping underneath her back to undo the clasp of her bra. He let out a small mumble of approval as he lowered his mouth to one breast, drawing the nipple into his mouth as fingers traced the outside of her other breast, swirling inwards until he reached the nipple, mimicking the movements of his mouth until he heard her moan, her head falling back against the pillows as she shifted restlessly on his sheets.

Her hands wrapped around the back of his head, urging him on. His hand slid down her stomach, knuckles brushing against her skin, starting what felt like a trail of sparks everywhere he touched. He tugged down her panties, fingers slipping easily between her legs, mouth lowering to her navel, his tongue circling round her belly button, trailing his mouth up her sternum and then to one nipple, adding to the tension coiling in her stomach as his fingers teased her relentlessly, his fingers curving inside her the movement drawing a deep, strangled moan from her.

Pulling his mouth away for a moment, he propped himself up on one elbow, watching the way her skin flushed pink, her eyes closed, head tilted back against the pillows as he kept his fingers moving.

Dazed blue eyes snapped open, her fingers curling into his shoulders, pulling him closer to her again, she asked breathlessly, "What are you doing?"

"Watching you," he admitted, kissing her deeply before she could make any reply. His hand moved away and she made a vague murmur of protest, causing him to smile against her mouth. His hand slid under her thigh again, pulling it up, tilting her hips slightly as he pushed inside, slowly at first as she gasped his name, thighs wrapping around his waist urging him on.

He stilled at first, breathing heavily, giving her a moment to adjust although her muscles were already clenching around him greedily, her hips rising up against his. Letting out a low groan, he began to move with slow rocks, gradually moving deeper and harder with each thrust, their bodies fitting and moving perfectly together.

Their movements picked up pace, becoming frantic as they moved together, mouths and hands covering every inch of the other's skin. Mouths meeting, swallowing gasps and groans. Her hand tangled through his hair again, her mouth falling open against to his shoulder.

Lionel gritted his teeth, trying desperately to cling onto his self control just long enough to ensure that Martha went over the edge. She was close, he knew she was, her skin was flushed, glistening with sweat, she was struggling to keep her eyes open and her movements, much like his were becoming more frantic with every passing second.

She moaned again, he loved the noises she made, loved watching her lose control, her pale perfection unravelling in front of him.

He let out a choked groan when she squeezed her muscles around him, her name falling from his lips, provoking a smug smile from her.

His fingers curled into her hair and he pulled her lips to his, he kissed her deeply as he kept up his pace, feeling as though he was thrusting deeper and harder each time.

Her back arched one last time, a harsh cry almost torn from her throat as she came and he toppled over that edge with her, his mind blurring, all conscious thought disappearing until they only thing left in his mind was her. As he slowly regained control over himself again, he could feel her fingers stroking the back of his neck, her mouth trailing over the side of his jaw

Fingers trailing gently across her jaw, Lionel coaxed her lips back to his even as he continued to move slowly unable to bring himself to stop quite yet. She was still wrapped around him and yet he didn't feel the normal urge to distance himself like he usually would after sex, rather he was revelling in her warmth, in her scent. He lowered his mouth to the hollow of her throat, lips nuzzling gently against the dampness there, tasting her. His forehead pressing against the silken skin of her shoulder, fingers tracing up her spine in abstract patterns as their breathing began to slowly even out again.

"I should go soon," Martha told him after a few moments had passed.

"There's no rush, Lex isn't expected back tonight. Your truck is already back at the farm so no-one will know you were here."

"I'm not sure if it's a good idea," she muttered hesitantly.

His fingers interlinked with hers. "Stay?" he asked. He didn't want her to leave, wanted her here with him for longer.

"Ok," she finally answered, relaxing into him once again.

* * *

"What is it this week?" Lionel asked as his Private Investigator entered the office. Every week he had him gather information on potential upcoming stories in the press, thereby eliminating the majority of unexpected, unwanted stories reaching the public.

"Not much," he admitted, handing over the folder. "All but one story relates to the company, share prices, etc."

"And the one that isn't?"

"Just a piece that one of the gossip rags is planning to run later in the week, it's at the back."

Opening the folder, Lionel flicked to the back and felt his blood run cold when he saw the unedited piece and accompanying pictures. His eyes scanned the piece, it was mainly speculation about his relationship with Martha but the photos were damming. One was professional, when they had been leaving a meeting, but the rest spoke volumes. They had them in Metropolis, his arm around her, they had one of them standing closer than would be considered innocent, his hand against her lower back, leaning into her to whisper into her ear, and then worst of all was the picture of her getting into his limo, leaving the mansion in the early hours of the morning. He slammed the folder shut, if this came out she would be devestated. It made no difference to him, it never did, but he knew that it would end what was between them. "Kill it," he instructed.

His P.I. frowned. "The gossip piece?"

"Yes, I want it gone!" He snapped.

"But you've never concerned yourself with this type of tattle before."

Lionel shot him a dark look, getting to his feet, he leaned on his desk, his voice deathly quiet as he told him, "And now I am. I want to be clear that I don't expect to see anything about Martha Kent and myself in the press. Should this be published I will personally tear down the careers of all those responsible and those who failed to stop it."

His threat hung in the air before the stuttered reply, "Of course, Mr Luthor, I'm here to do whatever you need me to do."

"Good." The man was just at the door when he stopped him, asking suddenly, "Is there anything on Clark Kent?"

"Nothing of note, a couple of mentions in police reports as a witness but that's it so far."

Lionel nodded. "Compile a report for me, but after that I think we can let it rest." He would put it with the rest of them in the vault, someone to be aware of, but for now he would let it rest. He watched as his investigator finally left, uttering assurances as he went. He tapped his fingers off his desk, she was under his skin, he cared about her far more than he should. He knew that she was still uncertain and potentially not ready to move on, but he could be a patient man when required, he could play the long game.

Perhaps he should show her that this was more to him than just physical now, he should get her something, something meaningful and then let things play out from there.


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry for the delay, this chapter just didn't want to write itself.**

* * *

"So how does this sound?" Clark asked his Mom as she made her way hurriedly down the stairs. "Takeout and a film of your choosing tonight." He gave a slightly strained smile. "I know today might be tough for you, so I thought that might help distract you." He shuffled slightly awkwardly as he added, "I wasn't sure what you'd want to do today, so you can pick that too."

Martha smiled at her son, he could be so thoughtful at times. Reaching up, she patted his shoulder, "That sounds like a perfect day, but I'm really sorry, I have to go into work."

"On a Sunday?"

Gathering up bag and coat, she nodded, "Lionel has made a new aquisition, so we need to go through the paperwork today."

"Does he know what today is?"

Pausing, she let out a shakey breath, truth be told she didn't want to think about her anniversary, let alone discuss it with Lionel. That edge of guilt that rubbed at her constantly was worse today, like a sharp knife in her side, the thought that she should be consumed with grief still, rather than cavorting with the man her husband hated, just wouldn't leave her alone. She couldn't say any of this to Clark of course, and she tried to soothe herself by repeating in her head that whilst Jonathan was gone that didn't mean she loved him any less, and neither did trying to piece her life back together in whatever way she could, make her a terrible person. "I haven't discussed it with Lionel," she replied after a moment. She forced a bright, encouraging smile onto her face as she told him, "Anyway, it will keep me busy and that's what I need today."

Clark folded his arms across himself. "You know he only got that deal because he stole it from Lex, he bugged his office!"

Martha sucked in a breath between her teeth, no doubt Lionel was aiming to teach Lex a lesson, God only knew what in this time. Still it wasn't her place to criticise his parenting style, and he wouldn't be the first or last business man to employ nefarious tactics to get what he wanted. "We might not like or agree with it Clark, but that is often how large businesses operate."

"That doesn't make it right."

"No, but I'm not so certain Lex wouldn't have done the same thing had the roles been reversed."

Opening his mouth to protest, Clark suddenly paused and rubbed the back of his neck somewhat sheepishly. "Well...Ok...you might have a point. But still, making you work on a Sunday?" He pulled a face.

"I know, it's not ideal." Martha looked up and shot her son a hopeful smile. "But I shouldn't be late, so if the offers still there, then we could still have takeout and watch that film." She really felt they hadn't had much time together recently and she liked to know what was going on in Clark's life.

He grinned at her. "Yeah, I think we can manage that." He pulled her into a tight hug. "Have a good day Mom."

"I'll try." Martha left the house smiling, she really did have the best son.

* * *

"Lionel, I assumed when you insisted that this had to be done today that it meant that there would be more than just the two of us in the office."

A smile played about Lionel's face as he replied, "Well I thought that perhaps you might want the chance to see your new office when it was quiet."

Martha froze for a second and the looked at him. "My new office," she echoed.

"Yes, what with this newest acquisition to manage we'll be spending more time in Metropolis and you have more then earned a promotion."

Getting to her feet, Martha moved to the window, staring out of the large picture window onto the busy streets below. "I'm not sure about whether I can accept," she told him quietly.

Lionel shook his head, moving behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders, his mouth lowering to her ear. "Of course you can, you've worked so hard and accomplished so much in such a short time."

"Clark needs me at home, I've hardly been there recently."

"Clark is growing up," Lionel countered easily. "He has two more years of high school and then I assume he'll go to college, he appears bright enough."

His words could have been patronising, but she knew they weren't intended that way. "Two years is a long time and he's just lost his father," she pointed out instead. "I don't think now is the best time for me to jump into the corporate world and all that entails."

Lionel gave a soft sigh, his breath caressing the shell of her ear, causing her skin to break out in goosepimples. "You have given your life to the drudgery of that farm. You have so much talent and it has thus far been wasted."

"I don't see it that way."

She was so stubborn, Lionel thought to himself, she couldn't or at least didn't want to see how her husband had hidden her away, how he had stifled her talents. Lionel drew in a hiss of breath between his clenched teeth, he hadn't spent a lot of time around Jonathan Kent, but he knew the type, moral, self righteous and old fashioned, he would have expected to play the alpha male and his wife would look demurely to his example and follow it unquestioningly. He also didn't doubt that Jonathan Kent had been wary about letting Martha spread her wings, lest she realised how clipped they were and decided on reflection that her talents were better served elsewhere. However, he was aware that perhaps slighting her recently departed husband might not be the best way to win Martha round to his way of thinking. "I'm sure you don't, but you have the chance to chose a different path now, to explore an option that you didn't have."

Martha hesitated, she enjoyed her job and the challenges it gave her but then she would think of Clark, of the disapointment on his face when he wanted to spend time with her but she had to work. She knew that he was sixteen, that he bounced back quickly enough and would seek out his friends instead when she was busy, but she was also aware that once he went to college that their time together would be further limited. "I won't pretend I'm not flattered, that it's not a tempting offer, but I'm not convinced that now is the right time."

"We can discuss it in depth," he assured her, he waved his hand airily as he added, "In the meantime, perhaps you should check your desk drawer."

Shooting him an almost suspicious glance, Martha opened the top drawer carefully and slid out the large box that had placed within. Lionel's face could almost be called solemn as he watched her, his eyes flickering between her face and the box. She clicked it open, unable to stop her eyes from widening as she took in what she found. The watch was clearly expensive, much more extravagent than anything she had ever owned before. "Take it out, turn it over," he urged her.

She did so, turning the cool metal over in her hand, reading the words engraved onto the back aloud, "To Martha, with deep affection, L.L."

Her eyes met his again and she saw him swallow, if she didn't know better then she would have assumed that he was nervous, his voice however was steady, confident as he told her, "I mean that."

"Lionel...I...I don't know what to say." She looked away from him, she felt blindsided, almost bewildered, unsure what he meant, if he meant anything, sometimes with Lionel it was difficult to tell.

He reached out, clasping her hand within his. "I'm aware what we said, that this was nothing more than the physical but I think we've gone beyond that." A wry grin crossed his features. "You have become very important to me, not just as an employee." His hand squeezed hers in a way she was sure was meant to be reassuring. "And before you ask, the promotion is seperate to any of this, it's just that I see no reason not to be honest. What we have Martha, is somethng I thought was lost to me."

Martha felt bewildered, this all felt almost surreal. She looked down at the watch again and heard herself blurt out, "It's my wedding anniversary."

Lionel stiffened, his shoulders drawing back as he realised the error in his timing. "That is unfortunate," he admitted. "I didn't realise-"

"Why would you?" Her eyes briefly met his before looking back at the engraving on the watch. "I didn't mention it." She didn't know how to respond to this, she still wasn't sure what this even was. The silence drew out between them until finally she shook her head and admitted, "Lionel, I don't know what you mean by this."

"My timing has admittedly been poor, but I was attempting to use this opportunity to try and tell you how much you mean to me and that I would like more from our relationship."

"Oh." Martha rubbed at her temples, she wasn't sure what she wanted.

Lionel's hand covered hers. "We don't need to discuss this now, had I realised the date..." he tailed off and then shrugged. "I would have waited," he admitted dryly. "But as for work, we could discuss your promotion and new role over dinner, perhaps put your mind at rest over that."

Martha opened her mouth to tell him that she had plans, that she had to go home this time, when the door flew open and two men armed with guns marched in.

* * *

Lionel knew he had miscalculated the timing of his gift and he had cursed himself for it, but then as Martha had curved against him, sought comfort from him, he had allowed himself to hope that perhaps he could salvage the situation. He'd believed that he could take control of this situation, all of it, even of the madmen who held them against their will. Money was power, money could dissuade men from any course, you just had to find the right price.

He didn't allow himself to flinch when they fired, didn't allow himself to show fear when they shouted in his face, instead merely allowed that slow smile of amusement that always irritated Lex so much to curve his mouth. He could play this, he would win and both himself and Martha would leave here safely.

It was only when the files hit the floor, papers sliding out of the manilla folders that encased them and Martha was ordered to pick them up that he felt a small shiver of unease traverse his spine. Her hands shook as they pushed the papers hastily together and then stiled as she saw the name of her son, printed across the edge of one folder. She looked up, confused blue eyes meeting his and hardening at the expression they saw in his face and Lionel realised that his miscalculation was even greater than he had first realised.

* * *

As he splashed the scotch into his glance, Lionel considered the events of the day, considered what he had witnessed, what he had been told. He thought of Clark Kent's miraculous appearance, of the unexplained broken window so many floors up and he downed his glass in one. He was irritated with Lex, had considered telling him that he would leave, that he would return to Metropolis and yet instead he had blanked his son when he had finally walked out of Luthorcorp, had left those words unsaid, simply because of Martha, he was staying for her.

He hadn't had the chance to speak to her, she had walked out of the building, her arm around her son and not once glanced at him, her spine rigid, her jaw tightly clenched. He was no fool, he knew he was going to have a fight on his hands to try and convince her that she should forget the file, that they should move on from it, but he was going to try, he felt something for Martha Kent that he didn't want to let go of just yet.

As though magically summoned by his thoughts, the office door opened with a quiet creek and she stepped into the room, her figure as stiff and unyielding as it had been a few hours ago. Lionel stepped out from behind his desk, pausing when he saw Martha wince at his movement. "It's good to see you," he told her after a long drawn out moment. "I wanted to speak to you early, but I felt it wouldn't have been appropriate."

"No, it wouldn't have been," she concurred.

Lionel's lips thinned, was she here to read him the riot act? "As pleased as I am to see you, I admit to being surprised."

"I didn't see the point in dragging this out," Martha told him calmly, although her fingers tightened on the strap of her bag. She hesitated slightly before her hand reached in and pulled out a white envelope, she walked forward and placed it on his desk, her eyes meeting his as she informed him, "My letter of resignation."

"Ah, I assume you want it to be effective immediately."

"I think given the circumstances that would be for the best."

He reached out and slid the envelope towards him, his fingers tapping against it. "I'm sure this letter is very polite, professional even, but I doubt it will give me the real reason why."

Martha's eyes blazed for a moment before she composed herself. "I would have thought my real reason would be obvious."

"Really? Enlighten me." He needed to hear her say it if he were to have any chance of talking her round.

Martha hesitated, she wanted to know what Lionel had uncovered, he was giving her an opportunity to do so, or he was giving her the chance to let more information slip. In the end her curiousity won out. "The file on Clark," she replied, her teeth gritted in anger. "The fact that you've been investigating my son."

Lionel gave a casual shrug. "Can you blame me? Your son has a habit of turning up exactly when needed, saving the day and leaving dangerous situations without a scratch on him."

"Sheer luck," she replied easily. "Believe me, I have had multiple conversations about keeping himself safe."

"I'm sure you have." He stepped closer to her, so that he was almost touching her, he looked down, his voice soft as he added, "And you are both almost entirely convincing in your charade, but none of that explains what happened tonight."

Martha forced herself not to react to his words, forced herself to stay calm. "I don't know what you mean."

"How Clark got into a building surrounded by police, his reaction to the green rock and his sudden recovery."

"Clark snuck in when no-one was looking," Martha reminded him.

Lionel gave a soft snort of disbelief. "I somehow doubt that, and yet I have an unexplained broken window on the 49th floor."

Martha managed to give a laugh of disbelief. "So you can't accept that he managed to sneak in, but you think what? That he climbed up to the 49th floor and managed to break in?"

"I'm saying that a lot of unexplainable incidents happen around your son." His eyes narrowed. "In fact a lot of unexplainable incidents have happened in this town since the meoters." His eyes gleamed with a sharpness that Martha knew well enough to be concerned by as he added, "And even you have to admit that his reaction to the rocks was curious."

Her stomach in her mouth, Martha tried to keep her voice even as she replied, "I don't know what you mean? Clark didn't react to the rocks, he hurt himself when he forced the door open, that's what made him fall."

"So then why did you force the rocks back into the safe? Why put yourself at considerable risk if there was no need to?"

"Of course there was a need to! Moving the rocks distracted their attention from Clark, I didn't want them to hurt him."

"He made a very quick recovery following that." He gave a humourless laugh. "Although let me guess, that was coincidence."

"Lionel, you clearly want to find some outlandish explanation for tonights events when there isn't one." Martha shook her head. "You want to know why I've handed in my resignation? Because I was foolish enough to let myself become involved with you, to cross the line with my employeer, and you felt it was appropriate to investigate my son behind my back. I can't trust you, not even in a work capacity, so never mind anything else." She cursed the slight wobble in her voice as she continued, "You claim that I'm important to you. Well if this is how you treat the people you care about then I want no part of it."

If her words were aimed to hurt then they hit their mark, but Lionel refused to show his feelings. His tone became dangerously smooth as he replied, "Think about what I can give you."

"I have and I don't want it."

Martha turned to leave and she was halfway to the door when Lionel's words halted her in her tracks. "I find it odd that Clark's file was amongst the few that somehow caught fire."

She didn't bother to turn around as she pointed out, "Let's face it Lionel, you didn't have anything on Clark. If you did you would be throwing it in my face right about now."

He chuckled, causing the hairs on the back of Martha's neck to prickle. "You're right, I found nothing out about your son, but I know that there is something to find." Lionel moved until he was behind her, his hands sliding up her arms, his mouth lowering to her ear as he told her, "I know you took that disc" He smiled knowingly as he felt her stiffen slightly. "It wasn't found on any of the burglars and you clearly have a secret to protect."

"You can't prove that."

"No you're right, at this point in time I can't." He slid one hand up and brushed her hair from her face, his fingers caressing her cheek as he did so. "I'm not even convinced that I want to. I meant what I said, Martha, you mean a great deal to me and I wouldn't do anything that would intentionally harm you."

"You lied to me, Lionel." She pulled herself free from his grasp and forced herself not to look at him in case she lost her resolve. "I don't know what your game is but I don't intend to play it. Whatever this was between us, I'm putting a stop to it." She didn't wait for him to reply but instead left the room, the door falling shut with a firm thud, behind her.

Lionel let out a deep sigh at Martha's departure, before stilling and letting out a loud chuckle as he realised that she hadn't returned the watch. He would return to Metropolis in the morning, give her some time and space while he considered his next move, he wasn't done yet.


	16. Chapter 16

**Apologies for the delay, writers block and a lack of internet are to blame.**

* * *

The sun beating down onto the back of her neck, Martha was pulled from her thoughts at the sound of tyres on farm's dirt track road. She looked up from her planting, her hand rising to shade her eyes from the sun, squinting as she attempted to make out who was visiting. For a moment, her heart skittered and stopped at the sight of the expensive black vehicle that was slowing as it drew to a halt. Then she took in the soft top and the over the top alloys and felt herself calm. There was an instant that she had feared it was Lionel, she hadn't heard from him in the two weeks since their confrontation, since he had returned to Metropolis and his silence unnerved her. She knew him too well to believe that he was willing to let any suspicions he had about Clark and his belief that she had stolen from him slide, and so all she could do now was wait for his next move. Clearly it wasn't to be today, the car was too small and too flashy to fit Lionel's taste, he liked sleek and elegant and he would never dream of driving himself.

Her thoughts proved to be correct when she saw Lex step out of the car, adjusting his sunglasses as he looked around the farm, a faint smile settling on his mouth when he spotted her, his hand raising in a brief greeting. Martha settled back on her heels, watching the dust from the road settle onto his sparkling paint work, and called out a reminder to him, "Clark is in school."

His smile momentarily widened, walking closer as he replied, "I might have been lax in attending my expensive school, but I do vaguely remember the class times. It's actually you I'm here to see."

Martha couldn't help the flicker of surprise that crossed her features at Lex's words. She pushed herself quickly to her feet - too quickly – and felt herself stumble slightly, a cold sweat prickling her skin as her vision blurred in at the edges. The moment passed and she shook her head as she sucked in a few deep breaths, suddenly aware that Lex was next to her, his arm around her, his face pinched in concern. She blinked away the last of the fuzziness she felt, barely cognizant of Lex murmur of concern as she realised that her hand was curled into the sleeve of his jacket, pressing a fair amount of dirt into the no doubt expensive material. "Your suit," she muttered, frowning at the mark as she drew her hand away.

Lex gave a careless shrug. "It doesn't matter," he assured her. He frowned down at her. "Are you well?"

"Yes," she replied quickly, shooting him a brief smile, "It's surprisingly warm today and I think I stood up too quickly." Dusting her hands off her jeans, she continued, "Now how can I help you?"

Lex tilted his head, taking in the colour that was returning to Martha's cheeks and decided to let the last minute or so pass, she otherwise looked well, and after all her reasoning behind her stumble made sense, he was aware from his recent discussions with Clark that she was working all hours on the farm. "I had a proposition that I would like to discuss with you."

Looking at him with undisguised curiosity, Martha nodded as she replied, "Well then I suggest we take this inside, get out of this heat." She stepped past him adding, "You wouldn't think it was only April."

Stepping into the farmhouse, Martha went to the sink and washed her hands quickly and vigorously, glancing at Lex to see him looking around, a small smile on his face as his head tilted. "Is that home baking I smell?" He asked hopefully, suddenly sounding years younger as he glanced around the room.

Martha couldn't help but smile at his tone, her eyes meeting his as she nodded, "It is, peanut butter cookies. She gestured towards the cooling rack that was resting next to the oven. "Help yourself."

"Clark won't mind?"

"He doesn't know about them, and even with his impressive appetite he will struggle to eat all of them," she remarked, a lilt of amusement in her tone.

"As long as I'm not diminishing your share."

Her nose wrinkling slightly, Martha shook her head. "I've not really been in the mood for cookies of late, but they're one of Clark's favourites and he's been doing so much work around the farm…" She gave a small shrug. "I thought he deserved a treat."

Picking up a cookie, Lex paused and remarked with faux casualness, "He can't be the only one having to pick up the slack." His eyes lifted and met hers as he continued, "It must be quite the adjustment now your farmhands are gone."

Now they were getting to the point, Martha thought to herself. Lex could be very like his father but he didn't quite meet Lionel's talent for subtlety, yet. Pulling out a jug of lemonade from the fridge, she poured two glasses and pushed one towards Lex, answering, "It is, but we'll manage. After all we managed for months beforehand."

"You did," he acknowledged, "but it's hardly ideal."

"Life seldom is, but then I doubt you came here to discuss the vagaries of life." Her eyebrow arched.

Lex made a soft noise of amusement, he wasn't surprised that his father had enjoyed the company of Martha Kent, he appreciated quick wit and enjoyed a challenge. She had quite often been in the background of his interactions with the Kent's, but it turned out there was much more to her than just a farmwife. "You're right," he admitted. "I came to offer you a job."

She was surprised at his words and she leaned against the kitchen countertop. "A job?" she echoed. "And why would you do that? Did Clark put you up to it?" She asked suddenly, a hint of suspicion creeping into her tone.

"He didn't," Lex assured her. "However, he did mention that you seemed to be missing work." He didn't mention that Clark had expressed a concern that she was reacting to the sudden change by throwing herself into farm work and exhausting herself in the process.

Bristling slightly, Martha folded her arms across herself. "I appreciate my sons concern, but I don't need you to offer me a job out of pity."

Lex shook his head. "I wouldn't offer anybody a job out of pity. In that respect I'm my father's son," he remarked ruefully. "But what Clark said got me thinking." He took a sip of lemonade before continuing, "Trying to find a personal assistant who met all of my father's sometime ludicrous demands had become the bane of my existence. You are the only one out of the many, and I mean many, over the years that he has ever had a good word to say about, even after you handed in your resignation. That's no small feat and looking at your record of work with him, I would be foolish not to try and recruit you into my business now that you're available." He gave a casual one shouldered shrug. "That's of course if you wanted to return to the working world."

"Coy doesn't suit you Lex," she told him calmly. "So, given that you have multiple assistants already, what is it you're offering me?"

Straight to the point, he liked that. "It's the Talon. Lana has done a…she's done well to get the Talon up and running," he stated carefully and diplomatically. "But she has school and what everything with Whitney and her aunt moving away, she doesn't really have the time to manage a business." He didn't want to add that the account keeping was abysmal, she would find that out soon enough, and that she struggled at times to manage the staff. "It needs a manager, a full time one and I believe that you are the right person to take on that role."

Martha arched an eyebrow at him, still slightly unconvinced that this wasn't just another of Lex's generous offers to her family to repay Clark for saving his life. "And why is that? After all I have no managerial experience."

Lex gave a quiet chuckle under his breath. "You aren't going to make this easy for me, are you?"

"I just want to be certain that I'm being offered a job based on my own merits and not because you feel you have a debt to pay."

He had the grace to look slightly embarrassed at her words, if only she knew how big that debt was. Clark had saved his life and in return he had set that tacky journalist on him, the same journalist who had been found dead only yards away from Jonathan Kent. The guilt clawed at him, the memory of that frantic, excited last message that stated he had found something big would echo in his head some nights as he wondered if that's why Mr Kent hadn't been in the storm shelter with his wife, where he should have been. He wanted, no needed, to make life easier, better for them but he knew they wouldn't accept his charity and he dreaded to think how they would react if they knew his secret. "I'll admit that I owe Clark a great deal," he replied carefully. "But there would be multiple ways I could offer that help that would avoid putting you in a position of responsibility in one of my business ventures. I'm offering you this job because I know you can do it and because I would prefer to hire someone who knows the town." He gave a shrug, his hands open in a plaintive manner. "It's what's best for the business."

"And you hope if it was me then it would be easier to persuade Lana to take a back seat."

Lex nodded. "There is that, she finds it…difficult to separate her personal emotions from what is best for the business."

"One of the pitfalls of being a teenager."

"Indeed, but not something I want to spend large amounts of my time dealing with." He eyed the tray of cookies again. "And needless to say, my terms of employment would be generous."

"You can have as many of those as you like," Martha told him, unable to stop herself from smiling at the way he then quickly scooped three cookies into his hand. "I'm sure it would be generous, but what I would prefer is a realistic offer. I mean it Lex, I don't want special treatment."

"Admirable. Alright," he gave a mock long-suffering sigh. "I'll cancel the personal jet."

Martha's mouth twitched as she tried not to smile at him, she knew that would just encourage him to continue trying to push his luck, trying to get her to accept more than she should. "That sounds wise."

"So, what if I match your previous salary, including the farm hands of course." He held up a hand. "Which before you argue, is a reasonable offer, after all you'll be in sole charge of the day to day running as well as advertising and promoting the business and you can't give that your full attention if you're worried about everything that needs done here."

She couldn't deny that his logic made sense but she also knew that he was trying to make her and Clark's life easier, a fact that Jonathan could never reconcile himself with. Martha gave a thoughtful sigh, she didn't want charity but then again she knew she was capable of the job and he was right, if she had no-one to help on the farm then she couldn't take it on. It wouldn't be fair to expect Clark to run the entire farm, he had to build his own life and if he chose the farm then she wanted it to because that's what he wanted and not because he felt he had to. Jonathan would tell her to turn the offer down, to find another way rather than to place herself at the mercy of the Luthor's, but then she had none of her husband's stubborn pride. Lex and Lionel were similar in so many ways but they weren't the same, you couldn't hold the son accountable for the acts of the father. Then there was the simple truth that she simply wanted to work, she enjoyed it, enjoyed the challenge. Finally, she answered him. "When do you want me to start?"

His eyes gleamed with triumph. "Monday," he replied firmly. "I'll arrange for the same farmhands you had before so they will know what needs done and where everything is."

"You've got a deal." Martha refilled his lemonade glass as she added, "Now, tell me about Helen."

Lex broke into a wide smile that he instantly tried to hide as he asked, "Has Clark mentioned her?"

"He has, but I'd like to hear it from you." She nodded towards the stools, watching him hoist himself onto one before sitting opposite. Sitting back slightly she listened to Lex, because really, she thought it was about time that someone took an interest.


	17. Chapter 17

Stepping into her kitchen, her arms laden with paperwork, Martha felt a jolt of alarm when she saw Clark raking through the cupboards, leaving the doors hanging open. Her eyes darted to the cupboard under the sink and she was relieved to see that it looked untouched. Forcing a note of calm into her voice, she asked, "What are doing?"

He shot her a sheepish smile. "I was going to make you dinner," he admitted, "but I don't know where anything is kept."

"So, you thought you'd destroy my kitchen in the process?" She teased, trying to stop herself from hurtling towards the cupboard and checking the flour tin for the key. Irrational panic was still surging through her and it took all her effort not to let it show.

Clark rubbed the back of his head as he looked around the chaos he had caused. "I didn't realise how much mess I had made."

"Out of interest what were you planning to make?"

"Um…I hadn't actually decided, I was trying to see what we had and what I could make with it."

Martha looked around the mess and gave a sigh as she shook her head, a smile still in place, he had meant well after all. "I think I have some sausage casserole left in the fridge. Why don't you heat that up for us? Then technically you've still made dinner."

"Sounds good, I hadn't actually got around to checking in there yet." He opened the fridge and pulled out the casserole dish, staring between that and the stove.

"In at two twenty for forty minutes," she told him without looking up from the papers she was trying to put on the counter without toppling them, it would make her evening so much easier if she didn't have to try and put it back into order.

"Got it." He pushed it into the oven before turning around and asking her, "So how's work?"

Martha looked up at her son and smiled. "It's hectic but good, I can't believe I've only been there a week. I need to sort the staff rotas tonight, they're in a bit of a mess."

Clark looked slightly affronted, cutting in hastily, "Well Lana did have a lot to deal with."

Realising she hadn't thought through her words and how Clark could take them as a slight about the girl he was determined that was the only girl for him – Martha thought otherwise – she replied in a conciliatory tone, "I didn't mean anything against Lana, I know she did the best she could."

He deflated slightly at that. "Sorry, she's been a bit upset at being replaced, the Talon is important to her."

"I know and I've already spoken to her about continuing with the promotional aspect of the business. A large portion of the business comes from high school students so it would be invaluable to have her viewpoint on increasing that customer base."

"She didn't mention that," Clark admitted.

Martha tilted her head to one side and studied her son's expressions carefully as she asked, "Is everything ok between you and Lana?"

He grimaced, his eyes darting downwards to the floor as he replied, "She uh…she thinks that I asked Lex to give you a job and that's why she's been pushed out. She wanted to keep running the Talon herself."

Forcing herself not to bristle at his words, Martha took in a deep breath. She had nothing against Lana Lang, but the girl was too much like her aunt. Nell had always been rather self-entitled, if she wanted something then she expected to get it and even if she didn't particularly want it – as was the case with Jonathan – she still resented it when anyone else stepped in. Lana could be sweet but she shared that quality and if she was honest she didn't want Clark being dragged into that, he had enough to deal with without adding the whims Lana Lang on top. He wouldn't see that of course and so she bit her tongue on her real thoughts on a potential relationship between them and that she would prefer if they remained friends. "I assume you told her otherwise."

"I tried." He dug his hands into his pockets, flushing slightly, telling her, "Thing is I did tell Lex that I thought you were missing work."

"I know, he mentioned that." Martha smiled at the look of surprise on Clark's face. "You think the thought didn't occur to me when he offered me the job?"

"I was afraid that maybe that was what brought it on, that it might have been my fault that Lana isn't running the Talon."

"Clark, the Talon is a business and Lex needs to run it as such. Lana can't give it the time it needs and that decision has nothing to do with you."

"Yeah, I suppose I just need to wait for Lana to calm down a bit. She's had a lot to deal with recently." He looked at her and shot her a genuine smile. "I'm glad you're enjoying it though. It must be nicer than working for Lionel."

Martha felt her breath catch at the statement, she had tried for the last three weeks not to think about him. It had been more difficult this week as she had been working for Lex and at times she couldn't help but draw comparisons or note the similarities between them. "It's different," she told him. "They're completely different roles."

He gave a slight roll of his eyes. "Yeah but surely it's better than working for someone so unscrupulous."

Her stomach lurched at his description of Lionel. She knew he had his faults, that he had investigated Clark behind her back and his parting words stayed with her but she also couldn't seem to dismiss the good times they had shared, and he hadn't been a bad employer just a bad choice for a personal relationship. No, not a relationship she corrected herself quickly, a…a fling, that's what it had been. "It didn't end well," she replied carefully. "But it wasn't all bad, the work was challenging and it was good to use my brain."

Clark nodded. "I suppose I can see that." He glanced down at the oven. "This is going to take ages."

"It won't be that long," she laughed. "Although while it's cooking I might go for a shower, you happy to keep an eye?"

"Yeah, course."

Martha couldn't help but let her eyes drift in the direction of the sink cupboard again, although she kept a note of levity in her voice as she asked, "And I take it you're done tearing apart the kitchen?"

"Think I'll give it a rest for tonight."

"Glad to hear it."

* * *

The water sluicing over her, Martha closed her eyes and leaned against the shower wall, finally letting the thoughts she had pressed down for the last few weeks run riot in her mind. She wanted to curse Lionel for bringing that Godforsaken key back into their lives, she didn't want Clark to discover it. It was selfish and she knew it, but she was afraid, afraid that if he knew about it then he would want to know more about his origins and that he would leave and not come back. She knew that like any other child he would grow up and that he would have to go and make his own way in life, but the idea that he might leave this world was too much for her. She'd lost her husband, he wouldn't lose her son.

Her stomach clenched uncomfortably at the thought of Jonathan, since her rendezvous with Lionel had ended the guilt she had supressed had become more prominent, harder to ignore. What made it worse was that she actually missed Lionel's company, that occasionally she would catch herself thinking about him and not always in anger. She wasn't a fool, she didn't trust him and she didn't plan to seek him out, but sometimes she caught herself missing his company, the way that he would make her laugh, make her feel important. Then she would think of Jonathan and she felt guilty, it was him she should be missing. She did miss him, when it had all gone disastrously wrong with Lionel she had thought of Jonathan, of how honest he was and how she had betrayed his memory by falling into bed with Lionel Luthor.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. What was wrong with her? She had loved her husband unreservedly, so why had she let herself be swayed by Lionel's charm? And why was she continuing to think about him? Jonathan had protected their family, prioritised her and their son, done whatever he had to do to keep them all safe, even when it had cost him his life, a fact she could never tell Clark. Lionel had flashes of good in him, but he prioritised what he wanted and needed. He could be charming, witty, and sometimes even caring and considerate but it was always under his own terms and she wasn't fool enough to think that that could change.

The night she had handed in her resignation she had stood in this shower and sobbed until she physically couldn't cry anymore. She had cried for Jonathan and her betrayal of him, cried for Clark, for the fear he would one day leave or that Lionel's investigations would put him in danger and she cried for herself, that she had let herself feel for a man who she meant nothing to.

Her spine stiffened, she wouldn't be crying tonight, she decided firmly. She might not know what Lionel's next move would be but she could face it, she could and would deal with it, she would keep Clark safe. Biting down on her bottom lip she remembered his words, that he would leave it alone, for her. She didn't trust him, but she wondered if that may work in her favour. Only time would tell. First things first though, she had to move that key, it couldn't stay there, it was only a matter of time before he found it. Tomorrow, she would move it tomorrow before Clark was up, to somewhere he wouldn't think to look.

* * *

 _Martha's back was to him as she stared out of the picture windows at the city lights of the Metropolis skyline. She was dressed only in his shirt, which he was amused to see swamped her and she had rolled up the sleeves, whilst her hair was tousled and mused._

" _I wondered where you had gotten to," he remarked after a moment._

 _She jumped, turning swiftly, her hand fluttering to her chest, resting there briefly. "Lionel, you startled me."_

 _He stepped behind her, his hands wrapping around her waist as he pressed a kiss to the side of her brow. "My apologies, I didn't mean to."_

 _Her hands slid to cover his, her hips pressing against his. "I suppose this time I can let it slide."_

 _Lionel smiled. "Very generous of you." He glanced out at the view, he had always enjoyed looking out over the top of the city, feeling superior to everyone else. "Couldn't you sleep?"_

 _She shook her head. "It wasn't that, I woke up, needed some water and I suppose I was distracted. I didn't really pay attention to it earlier, it really is spectacular."_

" _Well I aim to impress."_

 _Martha rolled her eyes at him. "And you're so modest with it."_

" _Where did modesty ever get anyone?" His fingers stroked at her midriff through the material of the shirt, smiling as it made her press tighter and closer against him. "Do you miss it?" he asked._

" _No," she replied honestly. "I don't really think about the city much."_

" _It must have been quite the change, to give up all this for the life of a farmer's wife."_

" _I can't pretend that every moment of my life with Jonathan was easy, but I loved him so I didn't look back. The city couldn't offer me what he did," she concluded simply. "But it does look beautiful in its own way."_

 _He didn't reply, he wondered if Jonathan Kent had been aware of how lucky he was in having Martha as his wife. Lillian had never been able to adapt to his lifestyle, despite belong to the upper echelons of Metropolis society she had hated the security that was required in the latter days and despised his long hours, unable or unwilling to understand why he kept pushing for more. He hadn't wanted to be simply successful, he had wanted to be the best. She had later claimed that her illness made her see that it was the simple things in life that were truly important but he had known that love alone couldn't save her, research into her heart condition might, and to control that it was money and power that was required. Unthinkingly he pressed a light kiss to Martha's temple, feeling her relax further into his embrace. "Come back to bed," he murmured softly._

 _She turned into his arms, her face tilting upwards and he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. She smiled, pressing a kiss to the soft pad of his fingertip. "I suppose we do have a rather limited time together."_

" _Exactly." He dipped his head, his mouth finding the exact spot on her neck that made her squirm against him, a gasp escaping her. He smirked, chuckling against her skin, his fingers spearing into her hair, continuing, "We should make the most of it."_

" _We should move away from the windows," she laughed breathlessly. "Someone might see."_

 _Shaking his head, he told her, "You don't honestly think I'd let my home be overlooked, there's a tint on the windows. He moved to press her against the glass, his voice dropping to a near growl, "I could take you here and no one else would ever know."_

 _Her eyes met his, her smile holding a hint of mischievousness, her voice dropping to a near whisper as she challenged him, "Well why don't you then?"_

Lionel let out an irritated hiss, forcing himself to cut his memory short as he threw the remainder of his drink back his throat as he stared out across Metropolis, spread out beneath his feet just as he'd always wanted. It felt hollow, everything felt hollow when all he could think about was her. Dammit, he missed her. Barely an hour went by that his mind didn't drift to Martha Kent, he missed her honesty, her straight forwardness. Already in the three weeks since they had parted ways, he had gone through four assistants, they had managed to irritate him without even trying. Or it was just the fact that they weren't her.

His fingers tapped agitatedly against his thighs as he remembered his last words to her, that whispered, lingering threat. He knew that's how she would have taken it, had he meant it like that? Sometimes he wasn't sure if that was what he meant. He'd wanted her to know that he could protect her secrets but he was used to having to manipulate to get what he wanted, even in relationships. With Lillian, he had wanted it to be different, but as she pulled away from him, he had reacted in the only way he'd known how. Lillian had stayed, but Martha had walked away, it made him admire her all the more.

Part of him had truly believed, perhaps even hoped that she would be the one to come back to him, but he knew that she wouldn't. That she had kept the watch gave him hope, but as time ticked by, he realised that she wasn't going to suddenly walk back into his world. If he wanted her then he would have to go get her.

Lionel's eyes narrowed slightly as he considered his options, he couldn't apologise, the words would always stick in his throat, but he was sure he could win her round. It was time to return to Smallville, maybe start by paying Lex a visit. Tomorrow, he decided, he would head back to Smallville tomorrow.

* * *

 **Yup, we are heading into Fever next.**

 **I have it all in my head, but I'm not sure how long it will take to get it down.**


	18. Chapter 18

**I honestly expected to have this update out in November but so many things happened I just never got the chance to write more than a paragraph. I hope this update is worth it.**

* * *

Martha pressed the dirt down firmly, feeling herself calm as she did so, knowing that no-one would ever look here, that her secret was safe. Her chest tightened slightly as dust and dirt scratched at her throat, causing her to cough. She leant back on her heels and let out a sigh of relief, it was done and Clark would never know, that damnable key would be forgotten. A prickle of unease ran up her spine, she still couldn't guarantee that Lionel would forget it, he had kept that key for a reason, had clearly believed it to be worth something and she couldn't see him letting it rest. She shook her head, frowning as she coughed again, if he ever confronted her about it again she would continue to deny it, after all he would never being able to prove it.

Her resolved strengthened, Martha jumped to her feet and dusted her hands off her jeans, she needed to get on with her day, she couldn't linger here, Clark couldn't find her here. She didn't look back as she rushed from the barn.

Clark was leaning against the kitchen island, his hands flat on the counter as he gave a wide yawn, his features settling into a confused frown when she stepped into the kitchen. "Where were you?" He asked, blinking at her sleepingly.

"Just doing some chores," she told him briskly. "Early bird catches the worm." She patted his hand as she past him, teasing. "Not that you'd know."

"I'm a teenager, we're meant to sleep a lot," Clark replied knowingly.

"And you're certainly fulfilling that part of your role." Martha frowned, giving a small cough, her throat beginning to burn. Ignoring it, she asked her son, "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Pancakes?" he asked hopefully.

"I don't think we have time for that today, maybe at the weekend though." Martha pulled open the fridge door, lifting out the jug of orange juice, twirling round as she asked, "Where's your-" Her words caught on a strangled gasp as her throat suddenly closed, making it impossible for her to pull air into her lungs. As her vision began to cloud round the edges, she felt the glass jug slip from her fingers, heard it crash to the ground. As her world slipped away from her, the last thing she heard was Clark's horrified yell.

"Mom!"

* * *

Lex jumped as he strolled into his office and his desk chair swung round to meet him. His eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of his father, the trademark smirk fixed on his features, his voice calm and collected as he greeted him, "Good morning, Lex."

"Dad, this is a surprise, especially as I pay my security a large amount of money to ensure that I'm aware of all my visitors," he replied dryly.

Lionel chuckled, and Lex felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the sound. "It is my house," he pointed out. "No matter what security you have, I doubt any of them will overlook such a salient fact."

"A fair point...I suppose," Lex conceeded. "Still, I wasn't expecting you, after all I believed you were still angry with me."

"Ah yes, the hostage situation. Not your finest moment." His steady gaze met his sons as he told him blandly, "It lacked finesse."

Lex couldn't help but let out a humourless laugh at the criticism. "I think it may be the main sign of our family dysfucntion that your main complaint about that situation is that it wasn't up to your nefarious standards."

Lionel's mouth twitched with mild amusement at his son's quip. "All families have their dysfunctions, Lex."

"Some more than others." He gave a sigh, his hands lifting slightly and falling back to his side as he asked, "Am I to take this is a sign that my transgression has been forgiven then?"

"Luthor's don't forgive," Lionel replied, his tone taking on a sharper edge. "It's a sign of weakness, remember that." His long fingers drummed against the desk for a moment. "You are family though and that takes priority, in this case. Don't think I'll always be so generous."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He crossed his arm in front of himself. "So to what do I owe this honour then?"

"I decided to look again at the possibility of building here." He leaned back in his chair, adding, "And I recently discovered that you been treading on my toes."

Lex couldn't help but grin. "Let me guess, Martha Kent."

"Indeed. I was surprised to hear that you had taken her on to work as a glorified waitress."

"She's a manager, although that hardly signifies and I'm not sure why you're surprised, you often said how much of an asset she was." His grin widened. "It's just business Dad. Or it the fact that she would rather work for in a lesser role than have to spend anymore time with you?"

Lionel chuckled. "Trying to get a rise out of me, Son?" He stroked his fingers against his chin. "I wonder if Martha would still prefer to work for you if she discovered that you were the one who had Roger Nixon on his payroll."

Uncertainty flickered on his face, it wasn't possible he thought, he couldn't know. "And why would that be an issue?"

"Don't play coy, Lex, it's not something that you can pull off. You and I both know that Roger Nixon's body was found only metres away from Jonathan Kent's and that he was your hired lackey." His eyes gleamed, knowing that he had the upper hand. "You've had an obsession with the Kent's ever since they boy pulled you out of that car. My guess is that he found something and Jonathan Kent didn't want that something getting out." He leaned forward as he asked, "Did I miss anything?"

Lex pulled in a hiss of breath inbetween his teeth, there was no point in lying. "So you think that if you tell Martha Kent this that she'll come running back to you? Play secretary again?" He asked derisively.

Lionel shook his head. "No, I'm not that foolish." He knew if Martha discovered that Lex had played a part in her husband's untimely demise that he would never be allowed to so much as breath in her direction. She would refuse to have anything to do with anyone or anything linked to the name Luthor. "Merely pointing out, yet again, that there is no point in trying to play me. I will always be one step ahead of you."

"Doesn't get you what you want though, does it?"

"Not yet, but I can be patient." He fixed his son with a long stare. "Tell me, did you at least get the information you wanted from Roger Nixon, or was it all for nothing?"

Lex knew his face had paled and it was through gritted teeth that he admitted, "Nixon took whatever he had on the Kent's to his grave. It doesn't matter though, I'm not interested anymore."

"Now you're just fibbing. I can see how curious you are."

"It doesn't matter. I've caused enought damage and I can't just leave them to clean up my mistake."

"How noble."

The sharp ring of the telephone interupted any reply that Lex could have planned to make. His eyes still fixed on Lionel he reached across the desk to lift the receiver. "Lex Luthor speaking. Clark what-" He stopped abruptly, listening to his friend's hurried, panicked story. He ran his hand across his head. "Clark, I'll be right there, try and stay calm." He hung up and glanced at Lionel, telling him, "I need to go."

Lionel's voice was flat, "What's happened?"

Lex was halfway from the room when he turned, telling him bluntly, "Martha Kent has collapsed, it doesn't look good. I'm going to go and be with Clark, he needs a friend just now."

Normally Lionel would have had a quick witted reply to that last remark, and yet this time words failed him. Instead he watched Lex leave silently, his frame slumping in his chair, his hands pressing against his mouth. He needed to know more, he needed to see her.

* * *

Clark's leg jittered as he tapped his foot against the hospital floor, his elbows leaning on his knees, his chin resting in his hands. He felt as though time was stretching out, as though he had been waiting for hours when in reality he'd really only been waiting for thirty minutes or so. His eyes shifted to the clock again.

"Clark!" He turned to see Lex hurrying towards him, his mouth set in a thin, grim line, his hand clapped his shoulder as he sat down beside him. "What happened?"

He couldn't meet Lex's concerned gaze. "I don't know. She was fine, she was," he insisted. "One minute she was talking to me and the next..." He paused, gathering himself. "The next she had collapsed, she wasn't breathing. I don't know what happened."

"Have they told you anything yet?"

"No." He shook his head. "I've just been sitting here, waiting." He finally met Lex's gaze, admitting, "I don't know what to do."

"Is Helen with her?"

"Yeah, yeah she is."

Lex gave a nod. "Good, once she updates us I'll get the best specialist for whatever is causing this, I promise you."

"Thanks Lex, but I can't possibly pay you back for that."

Lex managed a tight smile. "Clark, you saved my life, I owe you."

"When are you going to stop throwing that reason at me for everything you do?" Clark asked, although his features had relaxed ever so slightly.

"Probably never," he admitted.

Clark leant back in his chair, trying not to think about what could be unfolding in the hospital room, trying not to consider that Lex might not get the chance to try and fix what had happened. After a moment he looked at him and asked, "The Talon?"

"Don't worry about that."

"It gives me something to focus on."

There was a click of heels and they both looked up to see Helen approaching them. Clark jumped to his feet. "My Mom?" He asked anxiously.

"She's stable but still unconscious," Helen told him. "We're running tests to try and determine what caused the reaction."

"Was it an allergy?" Lex asked.

Helen shook her head. "No, it doesn't present as an anaphylatic reaction. We're looking at the possibility that it's an infection but it doesn't quite fit with ones that we're familiar with." She focussed her gaze on Clark. "There's also the possibility that this type of reaction could have been caused by a contaminate, although I've never seen one to have such a sudden and severe onset. Her bloodwork will tell us more, but if it's a contaminate then I'll need to inform enviromental health and they'll need to investigate everywhere that Martha has been over the last few days."

Clark nodded, "I understand. I just want you to find out what caused this and fix it, whatever that takes."

"We'll do our best."

Lex stepped forward. "Is there anything I can do? Anyone who would be helpful to you?"

Helen gave a small shrug. "I'm not sure yet," she admitted. "Until we've pinpointed a cause we can't know which specialism would be most beneficial." She looked back at Clark. "We don't believe whatever this is is airbourne, so you're welcome to sit with her."

Clark gave a nod, it had suddenly dawned on him that if whatever had caused his Mom's illness was a contaminant then they would look at every inch of the farm, including the storm cellar. They would find the ship, he knew that he would need to move it, that she would want him to move it. "I will, I just need some air." And before anyone could reply, he turned, hurrying down the corrider.

* * *

Martha felt exhausted as she opened her eyes, blinking at the strange, overly bright light that was currently burning her retinas. She turned her head to the side, a small groan escaped her lips as her muscles protested the small movement.

"It's good to see you awake."

Her eyes flickered to the bottom of the bed, where saw Helen standing there, her head tilting as she watched her. She had passed out, she remembered, she hadn't been able to catch her breath. Her hand raised to her nose, suddenly aware of the plastci prongs that sat in her nose. "What's wrong with me?" She asked, her voice croaker than she was used to.

"We've just had your bloods back and they show some form of contaminant in your system, one that's attacking your respiratory system."

"Can you treat it?"

Helen's expression became sympathetic. "We don't know. Lex Luthor is in the process of flying in the best respiratory specialist and microbiologist that he can find."

"Of course he is. And Clark?"

"He was here, but once he heard you were stable, he left, said he needed some air. He's not been gone long," she added reassuringly. Helen dug her hands into the pockets of her white coat. "Enviromental health are also looking into your case, they will be looking at the farm, trying to pinpoint a cause in the hope it will help us formulate a treatment."

Martha tried to stay calm at the thought of so many goverment officials combing through her home, finding their biggest secret. "Does Clark know about this? About what might be making me ill? About them needing to search the farm?"

"He does."

Martha felt herself relax slightly. He would move the ship, she knew it.

Helen shifted awkwardly. "Your bloods also showed something else. Martha, you're pregnant."

* * *

 **I know that quite a few of you will have guessed where we were headed and well done! This was always going to be the point of the story but it ended up needing a lot more build up to make it flow than I ever thought it would.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews, I'm sorry I haven't had the chance to reply individually. Hopefully this chapter flows ok, as all of it was typed out on my phone.**

* * *

The only sound in the hospital room for the seconds following Helen's announcement was the slow, barely perceptible hiss of oxygen, as Martha felt her mind race with a thousand thoughts at once. Her initial feeling had been one of elation, to finally hear the words she'd waited for for so many years...But that had almost immediately been followed by panic at the realisation of how stupid she had been, and quick on the heels of that had been disbelief. It was disbelief that won out, and she shook her head, telling her firmly, "I can't be."

"Blood tests very rarely give us a false positve," Helen told her, her voice steady, calm, a tone that in any other circumstances would give reassurance. Martha was passed a tone lending her any feeling of comfort.

"They said it was impossible."

"Looking at your records it should have," Helen admitted. "But it's amazing how nature can find a way." Her head tilted slightly, the corner of her mouth giving the smallest of twitches, the only sign of her discomfort in her next question, "Is there anyone you would like me to contact? Given the news."

Martha gave a small shake of her head, careful to keep her voice calm, even as she replied, "No, thank you." Her eyes met Helen's as the lie tripped easily from her tongue, "I was in Metropolis for work, I went to a bar." She shrugged. "I was lonely, I only knew his first name, nothing else."

Helen gave a hurried nod. "Losing a partner young is difficult, everyone will pass their opinion on how you should grieve."

For a moment Martha felt slightly ashamed for deceiving the other woman, but she couldn't risk telling her, she was far too close to Lex. Anyway what good would it do, after all she appeared to be on borrowed time. "They do," she replied after a moment. "And I have no doubt that this would cause quite the stir."

"I have come to realise that small towns like their gossip and it doesn't even have to be something particular scandalous." She gave a small sigh before she added, " I have to ask, do you know how far along you might be?"

Martha considered the question carefully. She and Lionel had been involved for about 6 weeks and thinking back she hadn't had a period in the time they were together, something she had thought nothing of at the time. It had been stress or her age, she had briefly thought at one point, not once had she considered that she might have been pregnant. But it meant she had no idea exactly when it had happened and considering she was claiming it was the result of an out of character one night stand provided her with an another problem. "I don't remember the exact night, it would have been February...maybe March. It wasn't something I was keen to hold as a treasured memory."

"We could arrange a scan," Helen suggested softly.

For a moment Martha felt a flicker of excitement at the thought of seeing her baby for the first time. Of seeing proof that after all those years of hoping and wishing, that one thing she had wanted most had finally happened. That feeling disappeared with a sobering realisation. She gave a shake of her head. "I've spent twenty years waiting for the moment I heard this news, for the moment I got to see that image of my baby for the first time. I don't think that I could stand to see this baby, knowing that there's a good chance that I might not live long enough to give them the chance to have a life."

Dipping her head into a small nod, Helen told her, "I can understand that, but you shouldn't give up hope, the specialists that Lex has brought in are experts in their fields."

"I'm sure they are. But tell me honestly, have you seen something like this before?"

"No," Helen admitted.

"Then they won't necessarily know how to even begin treating me," she guessed easily.

"They may have ideas that we haven't thought of," Helen insisted.

"And I genuinely hope that they do, but I need to prepare for the reality that they might not." She offered a small, sad smile. "Believe me I want nothing more than to get better and I will fight this every step of the way, but I can't do that and deal with the irony that just as I get my miracle, I end up with days left to live. I can only deal with one life changing event at a time," she quipped, her voice straining with the effort.

"Of course, however you find it easier to cop with this. But we are here to support you. So if there's anything we can do..." She tailed off.

"There is actually something," Martha told her as a sudden thought occurred to her. "I don't want anyone to know about the baby and that includes the specialists that Lex has brought in." If they were to mention it to Lex then Martha doubted that he wouldn't be long in putting two and two together. She couldn't risk that, especially not now.

Helen's features creased into a confused looking frown. "I'm not sure I understand why," she admitted.

"Because I don't want Clark to know. He'll be angry and upset and I don't want to put him through that if they don't find a way to treat me." She took as deep a breath as she could manage, steeling herself to continue. "He'll think I betrayed Johnathan's memory, I don't want to give him that to cope with if I'm not going to be here to support him."

"I understand that but all doctors are bound by a code of confidentiality-"

"All it would take is a small slip when updating Lex and then he might feel duty bound to tell Clark. I don't want to put that pressure onto either of them." She kept her gaze on Helen, watching as she chewed her lip nervously. "I do understand that you might feel that puts you in a difficult situation, hiding something from Lex."

"It's not so much that, I'm a doctor and patient privilege takes priority over any personal connections. My reluctance is more that some treatment decisions may differ if they are aware of your pregnancy," Helen pointed out.

"As I understood it, you are still the doctor in overall charge of my care."

"That's true."

"Then they will be running all treatment ideas passed you and you can intervene if needed." Martha watched Helen and realised she was about to refuse her request and so added hastily, "I know that it's probably against the rules, but if the odds are against me then I don't want to leave my son with the last memory of his Mom being that she betrayed his Dad."

Helen gave a sigh. "I suppose that I could misplace that particular page of your blood results for the next twenty four hours."

Martha felt her shoulders relax. "Thank you," she told her, her tone sincere.

But only if it doesn't interfere with your treatment."

At that Helen left and Martha sank back into her pillow - well as much as the polyester casing would allow - and let her hand drift onto her stomach. Pregnant, after all these years, it almost felt like a cruel joke. She and Jonathan had hoped for so long that they might get that miracle, even when they were blessed with Clark there would be the moments they would wonder what it would be like to have another baby, for Clark to have a little brother or sister.

As she grew closer to forty she had gradually thought about it less and less, hadn't even considered it as a remote possibility. She had been careless, didn't once think about using protection, despite having lectured Clark on it so many times. In all of the moments she had spent with Lionel, she hadn't given it a single thought.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her mind was racing, panic flickering through her. She had wanted this, it was the one thing she had ever truly wanted and the thought that she had actually heard those words meant the world to her. Then she would remember her prognosis and she felt guilt about the child she would potentially never bring into this world and then guilt for the son she would leave behind. She hoped for a cure, even knowing that it would bring with it a whole new set of problems.

Painful coughs wracked her frame for a moment and Martha shook her head. She couldn't think about the baby just now, couldn't think about dealing with the consequences. Not yet.

* * *

When Martha woke again she could feel a weight resting on her covers. Blinking her eyes open she saw Clark watching her anxiously, his arms crossed and resting on the bed. She reached out and patted his hand, he managed a forced smile. "It's good to see you awake," he told her.

Martha squeezed his hand. "How are you holding up?"

Clark shrugged. "Managing. Environmental Health searched the farm though."

"I heard," she told him calmly.

"I moved the ship."

Martha smiled at him reassuringly. "I knew that you would."

His eyes met hers and she could instantly see the maelstrom of confusion within them and dread filled her as he told her. "But they did find something. Mom, why didn't you tell me that you had the key?"

She knew that if she were to lie he would want to believe her, but she just couldn't do it to him. She had wanted desperately to protect him, to protect what was left of her family and all she had managed to do so far was make a couple of rather large errors in judgement. "Because I was being selfish," she admitted quietly. "I told myself that I was protecting you by hiding it, but really I was protecting myself."

"Where did you even find it?"

"Lionel had it. I think he's been collecting information on the meotor strike, it was with the rocks and folders."

Clark looked nervous. "Do you think he knows about me?"

"No," Martha told him honestly. "He suspects something odd is going on within Smallville and he was slightly suspicious that there was something...unusual about you. But he didn't connect the key to you, I'm sure of it."

"So why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I was worried that if you had the key again you would start wondering about ...about where you were from, start thinking about your birth parents again." She pressed her hand briefly against his cheek, feeling his stubble graze her fingertips, reminding her that he was growing up so quickly. "I was worried about losing you to them. It was selfish of me, I knew it then, although I didn't want to admit it, not even to myself."

He reached up and squeezed her fingers. "Mum, you'll never lose me, but I do want to know where I came from. There's so much that doesn't make sense to me and I wish it did."

"I know, and I shouldn't have tried to stop you from finding out about your heritage, I just couldn't bear the thought that someday they would come back and claim you and that if you went looking for them then that would just speed up the process."

Clark have a small tut, the ghost of a real smile on his face as he told her, "Even if I was to find them, they couldn't replace you Mom, not when you do all the cooking and washing."

Martha laughed, causing her chest to spasm and prompt another coughing fit. Clark looked over her, looking anxious. "I'm ok," she forced out between splutters.

"This is my fault," he muttered.

"And how did you reach that conclusion?"

"There's green spores in the barn, I think it's something the meotors brought with them."

What did environmental health say?"

"Nothing," Clark admitted. "They took the soil to test and have ordered a clean up of the barn, but I know what was there. I could feel them and they wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for me. I brought them with me."

Martha took in her her son's pained expression and her voice soft she told him, "Clark, you were not in control of what happened to you all those years ago and you didn't control what followed you here either. This was down to chance, not you."

"You're sick because of it." His mouth wobbled as he admitted heavily. "And I heard the doctors that Lex brought in talking, they don't know how to treat you."

"I know and believe me I don't want to leave you, but if this it then I need you to know something." Her gaze locked into his. "You made me happier than I ever thought I could be, finding you was the best moment of my life and you brought your Dad and I so much joy, more than I ever thought possible. And I would rather have had fourteen years with you than another forty years without you. You are my son and I am prouder of you than I could ever hope to put into words. I know you find your abilities challenging at times, but I'm confident that we taught you right from wrong and I know that you are going to be just fine."

"I don't want to do this my own," Clark admitted, his voice strained as the confession took so much from him.

"There will be other people in your life, people you care about who you'll be able to confide in and those who love you will support you."

Clark managed the smallest of teasing smiles. "I thought I wasn't to tell anybody under any circumstances, ever."

Martha tapped her fingers against the back of his hand in a mock warning and forced herself to admit, "Your Dad and I may have been over cautious about protecting your secret at times, but only because we wanted you to be safe and to have the chance to build your own life. You will always have to be careful who choose to give your secret to Clark, but I know that you'll be sensible about it."

"How can you have so much confidence in me?"

"Because the boy I see sitting in front of me has all the good qualities of his Dad and then some. You will be a wonderful man and you'll do amazing things. I'm sure of it."

"And if I do, when I do," he amended, seeing the chiding frown on her features when he said if. "It'll be because of the strength and wisdom I got from you as well Mom."

Martha had to force herself to hold back her tears. Despite all she said she worried desperately for the son she would leave behind, who would have no-one but the state to care for him. She reached up to brush his hair from his forehead and remarked suddenly, "Clark, you're burning up!"

He moved back from her hand, telling her dismissively, "I'll be fine, I always am."

"You have never been sick before, if this has affected you..." Her mind raced with the possibilities, none of them good.

"I'm nowhere near as sick as you are," he insisted. "I'll get better."

Suddenly a thought occured to Martha, the light from the ship, she remembered the moments in the barn, the light and warmth that flooded through her and then after that she fell pregnant with absolutely no effort. She'd been told it was impossible, that it could never happen and yet it did. "Clark," she started unsteadily, "This might sound odd, but I think the ship can heal."

Clark looked at her as though she'd suddenly grown horns. "Mom, how could it ever-"

"I can't explain, just the day of the storm, when the ship got out there was a light from it and I think it could help you. If you can't shake this off, then get the key and take it to the ship."

"If I brought the ship here-"

"That's too dangerous," she warned him. "I want you to be careful. I need you to be careful."

"If the ship could help cure you then I can't just ignore it."

"If it's safer then that's exactly what I want you to do." Martha pressed her hand against his forehead again and told him firmly, "In the meantime go and get some rest."

He got unsteadily to his feet. "I'll be careful," he promised her.

Martha watched as he left the room and decided it was time to swallow her pride and make the phone call she'd been avoiding.


	20. Chapter 20

**I feel I should add here that I didn't dislike Jonathan and actually did like the pairing, although I did feel that he would underestimate Martha's abilities at times.**

* * *

On hearing the door to her hospital room click open, Martha turned her head, watching as someone both familiar and at the same time unfamiliar to her walked in. His features were the same but softer, a deeper collection of lines had gathered around his eyes and mouth, whilst the dark hair that had once been tinged with grey was now a shock of white. His posture was just as she remembered it, especially when he was annoyed with her, stiff and unyielding, his shoulders tense. "Hi Dad," she greeted him.

His mouth creased, his lips drawing tightly together for a moment before he replied, "Martha."

"Thank you for coming."

"Given the circumstances I could hardly decline."

Martha forced herself not to react, he was no doubt angry and still upset with her and reacting to that never made it any easier. "Why don't you sit down, we have a lot to talk about."

He nodded, moving to the plastic chair next to her bed, dropping into it with a heavy sigh. "This wasn't how I wanted to hear from you again," he admitted after a moment.

"It wasn't exactly how I wanted to contact you."

William Clark made a small noise at the back of his throat, his eyes flickered over her. "How did it ever come to this?" He asked tiredly.

"We're both far too stubborn," Martha remarked. "Neither one of us wanted to admit we were at fault."

"I did try, when I discovered you had adopted the boy," he reminded her.

"Clark, we called him Clark."

He looked at her in surprise. "Not a name I expected you to pick, or at at least a name I ever thought that Jonathan would agree to."

"You always want to villify Jonathan," she sighed. " He was a good man."

"He wasn't what I wanted for you. You were made for better things than the life you ended up with."

"I was very happy with my life."

"You threw your education, your career away and he let you, all so you could be an unpaid skivvy on that farm of his."

"Dad, I didn't ask you here to bring up the past again. I should have been the bigger person when we adopted Clark and at least arranged for you to meet him. You swallowed your pride and I didn't. But that was my decision, not Jonathan's."

"Did he try to discourage you from making it?"

Martha pulled her lips together and glanced away for a moment. "No," she admitted. When she had first pondered over her Dad's letter, she had voiced her concerns about him not being able or willing to protect Clark's secret or support them in doing so, and Jonathan had been quick to agree with that concern. With hindight she should have considered her decision more, given him a chance at least and that was her fault, not Jonathan's.

Her Dad clearly didn't share that thought, he made a scoffing noise at the back of his throat. "Of course he didn't."

Feeling once more like a teenager caught in the full force of parental disapproval, Martha only just prevented herself from rolling her eyes. "Dad, I didn't bring you here to have this argument again," she replied, keeping her tone calm.

"No, of course not." He leaned forward, his forearms against his thighs. "I assume that Jonathan won't be joining us for the this conversation." He glanced at the door, adding, "Where is he anyway?"

Her eyes widening, Martha remarked in surprise, "Jonathan was killed in the twister last year."

William's face dropped, his cheeks paling and hollowing, spluttering slightly as he told her, "Martha, I didn't know. I'm sorry, I wouldn't have brought up..." He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok," she told him, fully meaning her words. "It doesn't matter right now."

"No, of course not." He leaned back and rubbed his eyes. "I just find it frustrating that you had so much promise and I felt as thought that was wasted." Tired eyes met hers. "Surely as a parent you can understand that, even if you don't agree with me."

Martha thought of her son, of all his abilities, of the promise his future held. Could she honestly say that she would be happy if he was to walk away from all of that for something she considered to be a mediocre life? No, she probably wouldn't, she admitted to herself. "I understand, but if that's what Clark chose then I would support him." She knew that to be true at least.

"I'm sure you would. I regret letting my pride stand between us for so long, I suppose I always expected you to come crawling back, to admit you had made a mistake. I never considered that you might make it work, that you truly did love him."

"I did."

He gave a small, slightly uncomfortable gruff noise of acknowledgement. His eyes trailed over the oxygen at her nose and the paleness of her face. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she admitted. "What did they tell you on the phone"

"Just that you had been admitted and that you wanted me to visit, today."

Martha nodded, dreading the next few moments. "I'm glad that you got here so quickly."

"You're my daughter, no matter our disagreements if you need me then I'll be there. So how can I help? Is it money?" He asked, already reaching into his suit jacket. "Medical bills are extortionate."

She reached out, her hand on his arm, causing him to pause and look up as she told him, "It's not money Dad." His hand slowly lowered and he looked at her, his bushy white eyebrows furrowing together. Martha took a deep breath, "When Jonathan died I changed my will, what we had in place was outdated and I realised that it didn't provide for Clark in the way I wanted...needed it to. I named you as Clark's legal guardian until he turns eighteen and I need to know that you can step up to that."

William's hand moved over hers, patting it awkwardly, his tone almost blustery as he made an attempt to reassure her, "Martha of course I would, he's my Grandson after all, but it won't come to that."

"It looks like it will," she admitted heavily. "They don't know how to treat me."

"I don't understand, how can they not know?" He looked indignant. "What is it that they can't even try to treat it?"

"I've been exposed to some kind of contaminant that's attacking my lungs, they haven't seen anything like it before and nothing they're trying is working and even if it does work the damage maybe irreversible and as time goes on it will lead to the same outcome."

Everything about William sagged at her words. "Then you have my word that I will care for Clark."

Marta relaxed slightly. "The Farm will be put into trust, the majority of my life insurance will be needed to cover the cost of keeping it viable," she admitted. "The Farm has been in the Kent family for generations and it should be up to Clark, when he's old enough, to decide for himself if that's what he wants from his life."

"And no doubt it's what Jonathan would have wanted," came the irate reply.

"It is, but I don't want Clark's birthright sold out from under him either."

"Very well. I assume that Jonathan's life insurance is tied up for the same reason?"

Martha flushed, knowing the reaction her next admission was going to provoke. "Jonathan let his life insurance lapse."

Sure enough it caused her Dad to bristle. "So you pick up the slack for what he would have wanted! No doubt a common occurrence with him, I warned you at the time that he was too caught up in his ideas, that he wasn't business minded. He couldn't even ensure that you were left supported should the worst happen. What sort of man-"

"Stop!" Martha interrupted firmly. "I don't expect you to suddenly accept the choices I made, but I made them." She shook her head. "I didn't ask you here so that we can have the same old argument all over again. You didn't like or approve of Jonathan and I'll never be able to agree with your assessment of him, but I accept that it's mainly due to your disappointment that I didn't live up to what you wanted for me. Clark however won't accept criticism about his Dad, because whatever you may think of him he was a brilliant Father."

William heaved in a large breath and gave a curt nod. "I understand that." He rubbed at his forehead. "You don't have to worry about the boy's upkeep, I'll see him right, and I'll keep my thoughts to myself."

"Thank you. He'll have lost both his parents in the space of a year, and I'm worried about how he'll manage with the change. His home is Smallville, everything he knows is here."

"Then if possible we'll keep it that way until he finishes school. No point in upsetting him anymore than he already will be."

Martha could have cried from the relief of her Dad's words. "That would mean the world to me."

"Then that's what I'll do." He offered her a warm smile, squeezing her hand, and she was suddenly reminded of when she was younger and her Dad would do whatever he could to cheer her up, to make her feel better. "Now, when do I get to meet my grandson?"

"Soon. I've sent him home, I don't think he''ll be back tonight."

"Very well."

"You should go and get some rest as well."

"I can stay here with you, it's not a problem," he told her.

Part of Martha wanted to accept his offer, to have her Dad hold her hand and tell her it would all be ok, but she just couldn't do it to him. She couldn't make him sit and watch her die when he had been closed out from her life for so long. So she shook her head. "It's getting late. I'll probably try and get some sleep soon. I'll see you tomorrow," she told him, hoping it was true and fearing it was a certain lie.

He looked unsure for a moment but then nodded, getting to his feet he leaned over and kissed her forehead. "You sleep well," he told her. "And I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight Dad." She smiled at him, telling him honestly, "I know there's a lot of water under the bridge, but whatever happened in the past I do love you."

A smile broke his face. "And I love you. I only if wanted the best for you, I admit I didn't always get it right, but I'll make it up to you."

She nodded and let him leave, the guilt clawing at her, a feeling that was becoming far too familiar to her.

* * *

Lionel loathed hospitals, he hated the lingering smell of antiseptic, the odd beeps and the reminder that illness and frailty were only a small step away for most people. It didn't help that all he could remember when forced to step through their doors was losing Lillian, of the frustration of watching her fade away. He inhaled a hiss of breath from between his clenched teeth, his shoulders tight, his nerves on edge.

Despite his dislike of the environment it had still taken a concentrated effort not to rush here hours earlier. When Lex had swept out of the mansion, Lionel had wanted to follow him, to rush to Martha's bedside; it had taken all his self control to stay where he was. But he had managed it, instead arranging for one of the members of his security team to scope out the situation for him. They had reported back that she was stable and that Lex was in the process of flying in any specialist who might be deemed even slightly useful. Every so often Lex's guilt complex could prove to be of use, no doubt he was so tormented by his role in Jonathan Kent's death that he was determined to save Martha. Although for Lionel it was a small consolation when all he wanted was to be with her. Then of course there was the small fact that she might not actually want to see him, she had been clear in her anger and she hadn't faltered once in her finality of that decision. So he had stayed put for most of the day, instead prowling the mansion and barking in irritation at the staff, waitiing until the evening before finally deciding it wouldn't look too odd if he were to visit now.

As he rounded the corridor of the ward, he saw Lex arguing with two men whilst Helen Bryce stood slightly back from them, her face impassive as she listened and observed. Lionel moved closer and saw Lex acknowledge his arrival with a hard stare, remarking coldly, "Now isn't the time."

Just to irritate his son, Lionel glanced at his wrist watch and replied dryly, "I'm sure that I'm within visiting hours. Or is it that I'm interrupting something?"

The oldest man took this moment of familial disharmony to attempt an escape. "Perhaps we should allow you some time to consider the options," he stated, edging slowly backwards.

Lex whirled round, barking angrily, "Just what options are you suggesting I consider?" His eyes flickered between the two men. "You haven't given me any."

"We understand that this wasn't what you wanted to hear, Mr Luthor-"

"No, it wasn't and it wasn't why I was paying your exhorbinate consultation fees either."

The slightly younger of the two men winced. "We have looked at all possible treatments, but the simple fact of the matter is that we just don't understand enough about the contaminant and it's effects to stop its progression."

Lionel felt as though all the breath had been suddenly squeezed out of him, his chest tightening as he realised with a sickening lurch of horror that they were unable to treat Martha. It was through a slightly muffled haze that he was aware of Lex asking, "How long?"

There was silence for a long moment before Helen finally answered, her hand coming up to rest on Lex's forearm very briefly as she told him, "Should she have another sudden deterioration then it's unlikely that her body would be able to compensate."

"And when could that happen?"

"There's no way of telling, it could happen at anytime. I'm sorry, Lex."

The two specialist slowly began to back away as Lex rubbed his hand against his jaw, his voice hoarse as he remarked, "I need to find Clark." He looked at Helen. "He should be here."

Lionel watched the simpering expression on Helen's face dispassionately, there was something about her that he simply didn't trust, but now wasn't the time. He didn't have the energy to discuss with Lex his rather questionable taste in women. Helen's voice was syruppy to him, full of feeling that simply didn't ring true, although Lex seemed to be lapping it up as she told him, "I'm about to go on a break, why don't I help you look?"

"Thank you, if we split up then perhaps we'll find him that little bit quicker." Lex looked over at his Dad. "As I said, now isn't the time."

His spine straightened, he couldn't leave now, couldn't leave things the way they were between himself and Martha. "I came to pay my respects," he replied calmly. "I see no reason to change that plan."

Lex made a small noise of disgust, his lip curling. "I doubt she wants your company."

"Then she can pass that sentimnet on in person." His gaze flickered between Helen and Lex, his face an expressionless mask as he added, "Shouldn't you be getting on with finding the boy then?"

Lionel could see the conflict in Lex's eyes, knew that he wanted to argue with him, but knew that ultimately his current loyalty to the Kent's would win out. After a moment he made a scoffing noise and turned on his heel, Helen glancing once over her shoulder, back at Lionel as she followed Lex out of the ward, her heels clicking on the floor.

Steeling his shoulders, Lionel forced his mind to stop racing, to make himself think logically, although nothing could erase the tightness from his chest or the awful swooping feeling in his stomach, he had to remain calm. For Martha's sake he had to present as calm.

* * *

To say that Martha was surprised to see Lionel Luthor walk into her hospital room was an understatement, she felt her hand twitch and she had to physically stop herself from resting it against her stomach protectively. He couldn't know she told herself, he might act as though he had eyes and ears everywhere, but that couldn't be the case. She hauled herself up onto her elbows, her voice hoarse as she asked, "What are you doing here?"

He looked almost uncomfortable as he stepped forward, replying, "I came to apologize."

Martha's eyebrows raised at that statement, she never thought she'd see the day that Lionel Luthor offered an apology. "Well, this is unexpected."

Lionel couldn't help but smile at her wry tone. "For me as well," he admitted. He gestured towards the seat next to her bed. "May I?"

"I can't exactly stop you."

"I'll leave if you want me to."

Common sense told her that she should send him away, that the hours she had left shouldn't be spent playing games with Lionel, but she had to admit that she was intrigued by what he had to say. After a moment she told him, "No, you can sit down."

"Thank you." He lowered himself into the chair, leaning forward with a tired sigh, his hands folding, elbows resting on his knees. "I was sorry to hear you're unwell." His eyes met hers and she believed his sincerity as he told her, "It has made me reassess some of my previous behaviours." His mouth twitched with the effort of his next words. "I have become used to...persuading others to adapt to my way of thinking, to do what I wish them to and that's what I tried to do with you."

"I noticed."

He couldn't help but give a small, wry smile at her comment. "Needless to say it failed miserably."

"What exactly did you hope to achieve?" She asked him curiously.

"I wanted you to stay with me," he admitted. "I meant it when I said that I cared for you."

Martha felt her breath catch at his admission, and it wasn't anything to do with her illness, she simply didn't know what to make of his words. "It was an odd way of showing it," she replied after a moment.

He gave a chuckle. "It was, with hindsight I should never have tried to manipulate you."

"You shouldn't need hindsight to know that."

"No, but then I have grown used to having to do use that technique. I regret it, more than you could know." He paused, his head dropping for a moment as he struggled to push forward, reminding himself that this was his last chance to clear the air with her, that losing her was about to become final. "I should never have brought Clark into the argument."

"No, you shouldn't have." Martha knew that she was being curt with Lionel, but she didn't know how else to be right now. "I don't know why you thought that would help your cause."

"It was a bargaining chip." Cany eyes met hers. "I know that you're hiding something and I won't pretend not be intrigued." When she opened her mouth to protest, he shook his head. "I don't want to play games, not today. You should know that given the circumstances-"

"I assume you're referring to the fact that I'm dying," she interjected, watching as he visibly flinched at her words. "No point in shying away from the facts."

"No, and I always respected that about you." He sighed before continuing, "I won't push my suspicions about Clark, after..." He couldn't say after she was gone so instead he simply added, "I want you to know that."

Martha felt herself relax slightly. She knew that many would warn her not to take Lionel at his word, but on this occassion she believed him, she had to. "There isn't anything to find, but thank you nonetheless. It's the last thing Clark would need."

Lionel gave a brief nod. "How's he holding up?"

"At the moment he's displaying his Dad's stoicism."

"I believe Lex has went to find him."

She gave a soft sigh. "It may sound terrible, but I'm glad he isn't here, I don't want him to watch this."

Lionel rubbed his hand across his face in agitation. "I know that Lex brought in specialists, but if you permit me then I could see if I could find someone else to give another opinion." His hand reached out and caught hers, squeezing it in desperation. "There has to be something they can do."

Martha shook her head. "Money can't fix this," she told him quietly. "I wish it could." She felt her grip tighten on his fingers, when he looked at her like that, as though she were all he could see, as though she meant the world to him, then she felt herself fall back under his spell. There was good in him, she wouldn't pretend that always outweighed the bad, but then she was on borrowed time, the long term didn't matter. She had missed him, at least she could be honest with herself about that. "Stay with me," she heard herself say.

He looked at her in surprise. "You're sure?"

"Yes. I don't want platitudes Lionel, and I know that's one thing you won't subject me to."

He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to her skin. "No, they've never been my strong suit, not with you anyway." His gaze was almost hopeful as it met hers. "Can I take this to mean that I'm forgiven?"

"I don't want to hold grudges, not now." She considered her next words carefully. "I'm not sure what I feel for you, whether it's simply lust or if it's more than that. I don't know if I would ever have been able to trust you again after what you did and I'm not convinced that we would ever have been able to make our lives work together in something that was more than a fling, we're so very different, our lives are polar opposites."

"They are," he admitted.

"But none of that signifies now and for some reason, it's you that I want holding my hand."

"Then that's what I'll do."

The words about the baby sat on Martha's tongue, but she held them back, after all what good would it do to tell him? He would either be horrified or he would move heaven and earth to save them, only to fail. How could she put that guilt onto him? So instead she held onto to her secret, simply replying, "Thank you."


	21. Chapter 21

**It annoyed me that the curtains and door were left open in the show, but then TV isn't known for realism so I decided just to go with it.**

 **This chapter takes place over a few days, but I didn't want to split it into two.**

* * *

Lionel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rolling his neck to try and ease the ache of his muscles, he wasn't used to sitting so long and certainly not in such a cheap chair. He glanced back at the bed where Martha was sleeping peacefully, it amazed him how she could be so unwell and yet look as though there were nothing wrong. He sighed, turning his head away, catching sight of the crossword puzzle that they had been working their way through on the table. His fingers twitched and he had to stop himself from reaching across to finish it, he doubted Martha would appreciate him sweeping in when they were meant to be completing it together.

He rolled his neck once more, he supposed that he could try to sleep, but then he didn't want to risk Martha waking up and being alone with her thoughts while he snored away. So instead he considered the newspaper again, wondering if he'd missed anything interesting in the first two reads. He gave a soft sigh, probably not, and anyway did he really want to subject himself to that inane drivel again? The answer being no, he instead pressed his hand momentarily against Martha's, his fingers stroking over her skin for a second, reassured by her warmth.

In all the years of Lillian's illness he had never sat with her like this, he had always been too busy, either chasing the next deal or looking for the newest specialist, hoping for a cure. It had been a cycle, money was power and he had believed that power and influence would be able to save Lillian. He had been wrong, so very wrong. It was only after her death that he had wondered if he had made the right decisions. At the time he had dismissed the notion, the brief thought that perhaps his time would have been better spent with her. It was a thought that had occurred to him again more than once this evening, as he sat with Martha. The time they spent together wouldn't be enough, he couldn't deny that, but at least there was nothing left unsaid between them. Perhaps that would be of some comfort.

His head dropped to his chest and he rubbed his bleary eyes, wondering vaguely where Lex had disappeared to, clearly he hadn't found the boy. Lionel glanced at the clock 1.37am, the time lodged into his brain, just as he saw Martha jerk on the bed. Her eyes flew open and he saw the brief spark of panic in her eyes as she made a sharp choking rattle as she attempted to draw in a breath. Her hands flew to her throat, pressing there, her shoulders lifting for a second before she slumped back onto the bed, her hands falling limply to her side as her eyes rolled shut.

The machines surrounding her let out frantic beeps, a long sharp alarm sounding as Lionel jumped to his feet. "Martha!" He leaned over her, frantically trying to rouse her as the nursing staff ran in, the familiar click of Helen's heels following them. He was pressed out of the way.

"Mr Luthor, you'll need to leave," Helen told him sharply.

Lionel felt his jaw slacken as he watched one of the nurses press their hands on Martha's chest to start CPR, another placing a mask and bag over her face as Helen began to ready more equipment. His voice was hoarse to his own ears as he told them, You have to do something."

Helen didn't so much as pause in her task, her eyes not shifting to him as she replied, "We are, but you can't stay here."

He was ushered to the door by a nurse, aware that Lex was also standing there, his cheeks drawn tight as he asked, "What happened?"

"I'm not sure, she was fine, she was fine," he repeated, unsure of who he was most trying to convince. He watched the unfolding of the events through the thick glass, unable to hear what was happening but aware that it was nothing good. His eyes slid to Lex as he asked, "Where have you been?"

"I tried to find Clark. Helen went to the farm and I went into town. It was late when we got back, we were in the hospital canteen when Helen's page went off." He frowned with a sudden realisation, remarking, "I didn't think you'd still be here."

"I thought someone should be. I take it you didn't find him."

"Helen did, said he would be here soon." He ran a hand over his head, clearly agitated. "He'll never forgive himself for this."

Lionel felt his stomach twist uncomfortably at what Lex was implying, snapping shortly, "We shouldn't give up yet."

Lex didn't reply, too caught up in how Clark would feel at the end of this, with the fact that he had failed to prevent it to even consider why his Father had stayed to comfort an ex-employee, or why his hands were tremoring as he held them by his side.

The two men stood for what felt like hours, although Lionel knew it hadn't been anywhere near that length of time, watching the futile attempts of the medical staff until finally they saw Helen step back, giving a singular shake of her head as she pulled off her gloves. Lionel shook his head, willing his knees not to buckle, aware of Lex pressing his head against the glass, muttering, "No, no, no." Lionel heard the choked noise that escaped his throat, this couldn't be, she couldn't be gone. He felt as though someone had his chest in a vice and he felt himself send up a silent plea that this couldn't possibly be the end.

It was in that thought that a blaze of white light blasted through the corridors, blinding in it's intensity as it forced the entire hospital to close their eyes against the glare. When Lionel opened them again he thought for a moment that he'd gone mad. He watched as Martha suddenly drew in a large gasp of air, her eyes opening as she coughed violently.

Helen was clearly just as stunned and it took her a moment to react, stepping forward hurriedly to try and place an oxygen mask over Martha's face. He saw the shake of her head, her hand rising to push it away. After another few moments the room door swung open and Helen stepped out, her balance unsteady and her voice uneven. Her next words were addressed to Lex as she told him, "I don't understand it, I just...don't."

Lionel turned to look at her, his lip curling, because despite the relief he felt in seeing Martha alive and well, that woman had chosen to stop, she had made the wrong decision and that had nearly had catastrophic consequences. "Clearly you weren't anywhere near top of your class in medical school. Tell me did you even attend? Or did you just print off a fancy looking certificate? Because surely even if you attended the most base institution they would have taught you the difference between alive and dead!"

"Dad, that's enough!" Lex rebuked him sharply as his hand reached out to clasp Helen's shoulder.

Helen glared at Lionel, taking a step towards him, her eyes venomous as she told him, "I know the difference and Martha Kent was dead! For thirty minutes she had no signs of life despite our interventions. Thirty minutes!" She hissed. "With limited oxygen and circulation, we should never have got her back and that there's no sign of brain damage is inexplicable." She turned to storm away and Lex followed after her, passing Clark in the corridor as he ran towards the room.

Lionel watched as the boy flung himself past the nurses and at Martha, pulling her into a bear hug, which she returned just as fiercely. Her hand cupped his face and she smiled at him softly. As the nurses left the room, he saw Clark's mouth moved, his expression urgent and he watched Martha expertly soothe away whatever concern the boy had, the tension leaving him. They hugged again and Martha turned her head towards the window, catching sight of Lionel. He wanted to run in and kiss her, to hold her close to him and not let go. Instead he gave a small nod of his head, he knew that he couldn't stay, that he had been lucky there were no questions already. And so fighting against everything he wanted, he turned and left the hospital.

* * *

"Perhaps you should go and get some breakfast," Martha suggested to her son the next morning.

He gave her a tired smile and shook his head. "I'd rather stay here."

"You've been here most of the night, you should go and get some rest." Clark shuffled awkwardly in his seat and she added, "I'm fine now."

"I know, it just felt like a close call, that's all."

Martha didn't want to tell him just how close it really had been. She was saved by the door opening and she gave a smile as William Clark walked into the room, noticing Clark and straightening his shoulders slightly. "Good morning, Dad," she greeted him.

Clark looked up with interest, scrambling to his feet, looking between his Mum and the Grandfather he didn't know existed. "Dad?" he echoed, his stare fixing on his Mum.

She ignored the stare, instead chosing to state, "Dad, as you may have realised, this is Clark, I'm afraid I didn't have the opportunity to tell him that you would be visiting."

"Telling me that he existed would have been nice though," Clark murmured.

William stepped forward, holding out his hand, his voice slightly gruff as he said, "It's nice to finally meet you."

Clark took the proferred hand, replying, "And you."

Looking back over at his daughter, William gave a small smile. "You're looking much better."

"I am," she replied simply before adding, "It would seem that I have a guardian angel, somehow the contaminant has worked it's way out of my system and I'm going to make a full recovery."

At that last statement, William relaxed entirely as an uncharacteristic beam broke his features. "Now that is good news."

An awkward silence fell after his statement for a few minutes before Clark, who had shoved his hands into his pockets remarked, "Ok, so I'm just going to ask it, why haven't I met you before?"

William's face tightened at that question and so Martha stepped in. "We had an arguement," she admitted. "And I only got back in touch when I became unwell, perhaps for reasons that were slightly selfish, but I asked him to step in should the worst have happened." She looked back at her Dad and gave him a small, smile as she added, "But I would like it if this was the start of us being more involved in each other's lives again."

"I would like that as well," William told them, looking back at Clark. "I would like also the opportunity to get to know my grandson."

"I'd like that," Clark replied. "But why did you fall out?"

"I didn't get on with your Father," William admitted.

Clark frowned, he'd genuinely never encountered someone who hadn't liked Jonathan Kent. "You didn't like my Dad?"

William gave a small cough. "No, and I believe that feeling was mutual."

Martha opened her mouth to interject when there was a knock at her room door and Helen stepped in. "I'm sorry to interupt, but I'm afraid I have a few things to run through with Martha." She held up a calming hand, "strictly routine before anyone panics."

Looking at Clark, Martha told him, "Go and get something to eat."

"I'll come with you, if that's acceptable," William interjected. "It'll give us a chance to talk."

"I'd like that." Clark leaned over his Mom and kissed her cheek. "I'll be back soon."

"You don't have to rush." She patted his cheek. "You could always go home and get some rest."

"Who needs rest?" he snorted.

"I'll remind you of that the next time you can't get up for school," Martha teased.

Clark's laughter faded into the hallway as he and William left the room, and Martha looked back over at Helen who gave a tight smile. "I've got the ultrasound machine with me. It should give us a better idea of where we stand."

Martha felt a lurch of uncertaintly mingled with excitement at the thought of seeing her baby and the fear that something might be wrong, especially after everything that had happened the last few days. But then sitting in ignorance and hoping for the best wouldn't get her anywhere or make her feel better. "Ok," she told Helen after a moment. "I'm ready."

* * *

Lionel's feet pounded against the treadmill, his heart thumping as he racked the pace up further, pushing himself harder than he ever had before, trying to rid himself of the thoughts that had tormented him all night. What had happened with Martha had rocked him, he felt uncertain and that wasn't a feeling that he was particularly familiar with.

One thing he was now certain of was that his feelings for Martha Kent no longer revolved around lust, that he did in fact love her. In the moments where he truly believed that he had lost her, he had felt bereft. He hadn't felt that way since Lillian and he had never wanted to feel that way again. He couldn't feel that way again. Not to mention that Martha was right, their lives were too different and to make it work would require compromise; he hated compromise. Then there would be the threats to her safety, he was a rich man and he was well aware that he was a disliked rich man. He was aware of the number of threats that trickled through to his security team everyday and she would make an easy target. He couldn't manage the idea of her being at risk because of him.

He grabbed his water bottle, taking a large gulp, forcing himself to keep running. It would be for the best to severe his attachment to Matha now, she was a practical woman and he doubted that she would protest the move. They would perhaps bump into one another from time to time but that was manageable, it didn't have to be a cause for concern. Yes, he decided firmly, he would see her once more and put a permanent end to the relationship they had had, it was the best, most expediate thing to do.

That decided, he bounded off his treadmill, his mind considering the other, more unusual events of the night. He didn't like Helen Bryce, he knew on paper at least she was potentially a promising match for Lex, but to him there was something false about her. Nonetheless he had looked into her credentials again on his return home last night and they were substantial. At first he had try to convince himself that it was far more likely that Helen Bryce was incompetent, because really the only other answer was that somehow Martha had come back from the dead. The memory of that blaze of light tormented him, though he wasn't foolish enough to believe it was a result of his silent prayer. So what was it a result of? And to top it all off, once again Clark Kent had appeared out of nowhere just as events took a highly unusual turn.

Lionel rubbed at his neck with a towel. He had meant what he had said to Martha, that he wouldn't investigate the boy after her death; he would have kept that promise. But then she wasn't dead and the secret she hide about that boy clawed at him incessantly. He had to know just what the Kent family were hiding.

* * *

The whooshing and thumping sound filled the small room and Martha felt her hands curl into her palms, her nails biting into the skin as she asked nervously, "Is that my baby?"

Helen's smile was slightly more relaxed, more genuine as she turned the screen to face Martha. "It is," she confirmed.

Martha felt her breath catch as she took in the sight before her, the moment even better than she had ever imagined it being, and she had imagined it a lot. "Is everything ok?"

"It all looks as it should around this stage. Going by the measurements I'd put you at 8-9 weeks, which would put your date of conception around the last week in February and your due date round about the 20th of November. Obviously this will be looked at in greater depth by your obstetrician." Helen glanced away from Martha, clicking at the machine and jotting down notes as she added, "Does that date fit in with what you thought?"

"Yes, I suppose looking back it would have been around that time," Martha replied easily. That had been the first week she and Lionel had spent together, as ever he had been robust in his endeavours. Still, she looked at the slightly blurry image of her baby on the screen and she couldn't regret it, not even slightly. Although the thought of telling both Lionel and Clark made her feel uneasy.

Helen looked over at her again, stating, "I can get you the name of an obstetrician who specialises in high risk pregnancies if you'd like?"

"High risk," Martha echoed.

Realising the error in her wording, Helen looked slightly uneasy as she explained, "Given your age combined with your medical history, there is greater potential for complications." She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear as she continued, "Its also worth considering that as you're still in your first trimester there is still the risk of miscarriage."

"Right." Martha blinked, grateful that she was already lying down. That she was even pregnant felt like a miracle and the idea that all she might ever be left with was the image and the thought of what might have been was a sickening one. Perhaps it would be better to wait until the pregnancy was more established before she upset the apple cart and made her news known.

"It may all go well, but it would be unfair of me not to pass on the information pertaining to the risks."

"I understand that."

Helen gave a small nod, wiping the gel from Martha's still flat stomach. "Once the specialists discharge you from their care later today I'll put this information into your record."

"Thank you." Martha pulled down her top and adjusted her position slightly as she added, "I would still like to wait before making this public knowledge."

"That's understandable, many women wait until after their 12-13 week scan. You can be assured that that information won't come from me."

"I appreciate it." Martha watched Helen carefully, trying to keep her tone casual as she added, "Clark informed me that you stopped by the farm last night, when he wasn't well."

"That's right, I took a blood sample," Helen confirmed. "I ran it myself at Clark's request." Her eyes met Martha's. "It was enlightening but as I have said before I abide by patient doctor confidentiality and there would be no benefit to Clark for this to be highlighted." She reached out and patted Martha's hand. "Your secret is safe with me."

* * *

Lionel stood in the doorway for a moment, watching as Martha folded up clothing and place it neatly into the bag on the bed, before he finally raised his fist and knocked lightly against the door. She looked up and greeted him with a small smile of acknowledgement. "I wasn't sure if you'd be back."

"I wanted to come sooner," he told her honestly, "but I didn't think it would be appropriate."

"Probably not," she admitted.

His eyes drifted over her, she looked well, her eyes bright and the wave of relief that she was standing before him, healthy and whole overwhelmed him. He couldn't stop himself from stepping quickly towards her, pulling her into a tight embrace, one hand curling into her hair as the other wrapped around her waist. Words failed him, they couldn't possibly convery the depth of his feelings in this moment. "Martha, it's so good to see you" he finally murmured against the top of her head.

After a minute, Lionel broke the embrace and she told him, "I'm glad you're here, I wanted to thank you for sitting with me."

"I couldn't have done anything else." He picked up her hand and clasped it between his. "How are you feeling?"

"I haven't felt this good in quite some time," she replied honestly.

"I'm glad to hear it." He took in a deep breath and told her, "I thought I would drop in before I went back to Metropolis."

"Ah, are you planning on coming back?"

"Not unless I'm visiting Lex," he admitted.

"I see." Her expression didn't change and he was grateful for that.

"Martha, I thought about what you said-"

She held a hand up, cutting in, "Lionel you don't have to explain. It was what it was and now it's over." She would tell him about the baby in her own time, there was nothing to be gained from dropping that piece of news into conversation now. She needed time to think.

He gave a brief nod. "Very well. Should you ever need anything then all you need to do is ask."

"I'll keep that in mind."

There wasn't much else he could say, and there could no benefit from him staying here to ponder the what could have been. "Goodbye Martha."

She smiled at him. "Take care."

Lionel nodded and moved to the doorway, pausing briefly to ask, "Clark due back soon?"

"He is, he's going to drive us home."

"His timing a few nights ago was...interesting."

Martha's eyes narrowed, her figure becoming guarded. "Just where are you going with this Lionel?"

"Just curious."

"You made a promise."

"I remember my exact promise, Martha," he replied over his shoulder, as he strolled from the hospital room.

* * *

Lex paused at the window to Martha Kent's room, surprised to see his Father holding her. His head tilted as he tried to take in the scene before him, watching as his Dad stepped back but kept hold of her hand, his face more emotive than he ever remembered seeing it.

Realisation dawned and suddenly the events of the last few months settled into place, slotting together neatly. His Father had feelings for Martha Kent, how he had never seen this before was surprising. His clear respect for her, the way he endeavoured to keep her late and took her out to dinner, never mind his reaction to the close call a few nights ago. Lionel Luthor had fallen for the widow of a small town farmer.

Lex moved away from the window, he didn't need to see the rest of the exchange. An amused smile played across his features, this was interesting, even more so because unlike every other woman that his Father turned his attentions to, he knew that this one wouldn't be swayed. Yes, it looked like he was about to have his first taste of an unrequited crush, and the thought amused Lex to the core.


	22. Chapter 22

**This chapteris a bit segmented and spread over a couple of different episodes. I've tried to keep in what's relevent to this story without having too much filler. I honestly hate writing filler chapters.**

 **Thanks for your reviews :)**

* * *

"It's good to be home," Martha remarked as she plated up dinner. "Not that the few days in Metropolis with your Grandfather weren't nice," she added quickly.

Clark dropped heavily into his seat at the table. "I'm sorry you had to leave Mom, I just thought it would be safer, there were so many of them and just one of me and then after the barn incident..."

"I understood," she assured him, "I didn't want you to be distracted, and as I said it was nice to catch up after so many years." She glanced over her shoulder at her son, asking, "What did you two talk about whilst I was packing?"

"This and that." He looked thoughtful for a second before deciding to use this opportunity to satisfy his own curiousity and added, "So...Dad punched Grandad." as his Mom placed his dinner down in front of him.

Martha paused for a second, surprised that this had slipped out so soon, but she recovered quickly. "He did," she confirmed. "It wasn't a proud moment for either of them."

"He said that."

Sitting down at the table, she looked at her son, asking, "Did he tell you the whole story?"

Clark speared a piece of chicken with his fork, nodding, "I think so. He said that he didn't like Dad and he never thought it would be a serious relationship between you, so when Dad asked to marry you he said he laughed." Clark bit into his dinner, continuing, "I can see why Dad wouldn't take that well."

"Don't talk with you mouth full. And no he certainly didn't."

Tilting his head, Clark looked at his Mom curiously, "I'm glad he was honest with me, but I still don't quite understand it all. I mean surely when he saw that you were both serious and that you were happy together he would have come round? That's the bit that I don't get."

Martha sighed. "He did try," she admitted, "but your Dad and I chose not to restart contact."

"Why?" When Clark saw her slight wince realisation dawned on him, he placed down his fork. "Because of me," he guessed. "I should have known."

"When you were young you couldn't control your powers, that wasn't your fault. Like any child you were getting used to the world around you, finding out what you could do and pushing your boundaries." She gave a warm smile as she reached out and squeezed his hand. "You just had different abilities to most toddlers." Martha met his gaze head on. "When you become a parent your priorities shift, you were my priority and I didn't want to risk losing you. I chose not to take the risk in confiding in your Grandad and that was my choice. I don't regret it and I never will." Her hand squeezed his tighter. "Clark, is everything ok? You've seemed distant the last week or so, ever since you found out more about your heritage from Dr Swann."

Clark pulled his gaze away from his Mom's, he hadn't been able to tell her about Kal El's prophecy, about what his destiny was to be, to be a conqueror. He didn't want to see her face when he told her that, but he wasn't sure he could keep hiding it from her. "At first it was nice to know more about my world, to think that there were other people like me and it was tough to hear that I am the only one left. But at first I then thought that I hadn't really lost anything, because I'd always believed I was the only one."

"I understand that you've had a lot to get your head around the last two weeks but despite you telling me that you're fine with this, you don't look it."

"That's not all I found out," he admitted. "I wasn't just sent here to be kept safe, I was sent here...my birth father sent me here to be a conqueror, to rule Earth."

Martha sat back, exhaling at the confession. "Well I understand why you would struggle with that, but that doesn't mean that you have to follow that path."

"But what if I can't escape it?"

"Of course you can. Clark, nobody's future is set in stone and it certainly isn't set by their parents." It pained her to acknowledge anyone other than herself and Jonathan as being a parent to him, but she felt it needed said. She managed to smile as she told him, "Your Grandfather had a very set idea for my future, I was to go to Law school, take an internship at his firm and marry either a lawyer, businessman or doctor and live the life that he envisioned for me. I didn't do any of that, because it wasn't what I wanted, he wasn't happy about it but he couldn't stop me."

"He's not an all powerful ailien though," Clark remarked dryly.

"No, although he may not thank you if he hears that you don't deem him to be all powerful." Martha rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Clark, I'm going to sound like a terrible person saying this, but your birth parents have been dead for years, they can't control you."

Clark gave the briefest of nods, forcing himself to smile, somehow he felt it wouldn't be as simple as that, it never was but he didn't want to worry her with that. "Yeah, you're right. It's just when you come from a planet of all powerful aliens..." He shrugged. "Suppose I was just worried, that's all."

Martha got to her feet, ruffling Clark's hair and dropping a kiss onto his bent head. "You're not meant to worry, that's my job," she told him.

He nodded again. "I'll remember that," he replied, injecting some humour into his tone, when really he felt she had enough to worry about, he'd seen her at night sifting through their bills and he knew that although working had eased some of their money worries there were more lingering under the surface still. He couldn't add to that, he gave her enough stress as it was. As she moved to take the plates away, the sleeve of her jumper pulled up and he caught sight of the bruising to her wrist. Another reminder of what he'd put her through, he had been seen using his powers and Eric had used her to get to him. He had to be better than he was, he just had to be.

* * *

Lionel's expensive shoes were soundless as he stalked down the high school's corridor, making for their newspaper's base. He paused at the door, a moment of uncertainty and hesitation over-taking him, it wasn't a feeling he was used to. Once again he couldn't help but think about his promise to Martha, about her last words to him, reminding him of it. He shook his head, he wasn't breaking that promise, he'd promised to stop investigating Clark if Martha hadn't...he couldn't even complete the end of that sentance in his head, but she was alive and well. It was possibly flimsy thinking, and he knew that she wouldn't agree with the connection, would expect a promise to hold regardless of that caveat. It didn't matter now what she thought, he reminded himself, he had decided to pull away from her rather than to pursue her, so it didn't matter what she thought of his methods.

His hand reached out for the door handle and paused again. If she didn't matter, then why was he so intent on following up on his suspicions about Clark, about the other odd happenings in Smallville? Why wasn't he just going back to Metropolis and forgetting about this Godforsaken small town. Because he knew that if he could figure out the secrets this town held it would lead to untold riches and more control than he had ever dreamed of, that's why. He may have given up on Martha but he wouldn't be giving up on his lifelong goal, to build a lasting legacy.

He pushed down on the door handle, his mind made up. Chloe Sullivan was an intrepid young woman who had an insight into Clark and access to his daily life, not only that he was sure could be persuaded into assisiting him, after all her ambition was palpable. She was going to be useful to him, he just knew it.

* * *

"I didn't expect to see you back in Smallville so soon," Lex commented as the double doors to his study were thrown open and Lionel strolled in.

Lionel shot him his trademark, fake grin as he replied, "My son and heir has just gotten engaged, of course I'm going to visit to pass on my best wishes to the happy couple." He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering to a conspiratory tone as he added, "I also see you've found staff who are willing to pre-empt you with news of my arrival."

"Considering that this is to be my maritial home, I felt it would be beneficial to know just who is visiting." Lex leaned back in his chair, his hands folding together. "I actually wanted to speak to you about buying the mansion off you, after all there's nothing here for you in Smallville." A small, smug smile played across his features as he continued, "Not now your business ventures here have come to nothing at least. Whereas Lexcorp is thriving."

Chuckling, Lionel told him, "Pride cometh before a fall Lex, and yes there have been a couple of stumbling blocks along the way, but I'm confident that Luthorcorp will soon play an integral role in the future of Smallville."

"How ominious. I assume then that's no to allowing me to purchase this place." Lex waved his hand around the room as he spoke.

"You assume correctly for once. I shall of course continue to allow yourself and the future Mrs Lex Luthor to reside here for as long as you both wish to."

"How generous."

"And I'm not even finished yet. I came here today to deliver your wedding gift, as I assume that my invitation to the big day has been lost in the post."

Lex narrowed his eyes. "You tried to bribe Helen into leaving me, surely you didn't think after that that you'd be entitled to a front row seat."

"That was a test of loyalty, son. I was looking out for you."

"You were looking out for your money, trying to hold onto the vision you have for my future."

Lionel's jaw tensed. "You know Lex, it's not a bad thing to show caution in regards to relationships when you have as much to lose as we do."

"It's only money."

"Says the boy who's never gone without any," Lionel snapped tersely. He sucked in a deep breath, calming himself before continuing, "You never seem to have been able to get your head around the concept that our money makes us targets."

"Helen isn't like that, surely your little trick of yours has shown that."

Personally Lionel felt that it showed she was out for a much bigger prize, but he chose not to share that thought, instead telling his son, "Believe it or not Lex I didn't come here to argue with you. If you feel that Helen is the woman you want to marry then so be it."

"How supportive."

Lionel bit the inside of his cheek momentarily to stop himself from speaking his true thoughts and continued, "No doubt you can both take great delights in proving my suspicions wrong. In the meatime, I have brought you a wedding gift." He pulled the crisp white envelope out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket, placing it on the desk in front of Lex. "I've taken the liberty of arranging your honeymoon, private jet of course and your own Carribean Island for two weeks. All inclusive."

Lex's head tilted, his eyes narrowing in mild confusion. "And why would you do that?"

"As a peace offering, towards you and my future daughter in law." He stepped back, watching as Lex slid the envelope slowly towards himself. "I shall leave it to yourself and Helen to decide if you wish to take up the offer, in the meantime I have business to attend to."

Lex watched his Dad turn on his heel and silently stalk from the room. He picked the envelope up and mulled over it thoughtfully, unconvinced that it was simply a kind gesture. There had to be more to it than that, there always was with Lionel Luthor.

The door swung open again and Helen walked in, remarking, "I just saw your Father, what did we do to earn this visit?"

"Apparently he came to offer his congratualtions."

Helen raised one perfectly shaped dark eyebrow at that. "Why does that phrase somehow ring false?"

Managing a smile Lex replied, "I thought so too. He did give us this however." He passed her the envelope.

She opened it and looked through the booking paperwork. "It's certainly generous," she replied after a moment.

"Given his disapproval I would say too generous."

"As would I, but..." She looked up and grinned at him, "why look a gift horse in the mouth?"

His smile widened. "We never really spoke about the honeymoon, is this what you would want?"

Helen leaned over the desk, pressing a soft kiss to Lex's lips, murmuring, "Two weeks alone with my handsome new husband in paradise is surely the dream of every new wife."

"I can give you that, if you would rather not accept this."

Glancing briefly down at the envelope again, Helen gave a small shrug and her lips curled into a wry smile. "This is already paid for, so why waste our own money when we could save it."

"Believe me we have enough that it wouldn't be a waste," he assured her.

"To pay twice for such an extravagance would be wasteful to me," she told him. "And perhaps this is the start of your Father accepting out relationship." She looked at him hopefully, "Did you get the chance to ask about the house?"

Lex's cheek twitched. "I did."

"I take it from your tone that it didn't go the way we had hoped for."

"No, it didn't."

"Clearly, I was wrong about him accepting me," Helen remarked wryly.

"I wouldn't take it personally, I doubt Mother Theresa wouldn't have gained his approval as a future Mrs Luthor."

Helen continued as though he hadn't spoken, her irritation palpable, her voice rising in pitch, "You said yourself that there's nothing here for him."

"He implied that isn't the case." Lex leaned back thoughtfully in his chair. "The only subsidiary he has left in Smallville is a storage facility, and there are no other business prospects available in the town just now. So perhaps it isn't due to business."

Helen crossed her arms across herself, asking impatiently, "What do you mean?"

"I think it might be more personal than that. I think he might have developed an affection for Martha Kent, perhaps the hope of winning her over is what is really pulling him back here."

Her head jerking up sharply, Helen forced herself to pull her features into a neutral expression, sensing the opportunity to gain more information. "What do you mean?"

"You're aware she worked for him for a short while before she took the job at the Talon?" When she nodded, he continued, "well it was always clear that he appreciated her opinions and I assumed it was just professional, but then I saw them together after her illness, there was nothing sordid, I've just never seen him look at someone the way I saw him look at her, and then of course there was his reaction to her illness."

"It was unusual from a former employer."

Lex got to his feet, a small smile on his face as he gave a laugh. "Not that he'll get anywhere. Do you know he even took her out to the ballet whilst they were staying in Metropolis, played it off as though it was nothing of course, he was actually quite convincing."

Helen managed a mild laugh before asking, "Did they frequently stay in Metropolis?"

"No, they traveled through for business frequently but to the best of my recollection they only had to stay in the city that one time. He made her stay late quite frequently here as well, no doubt trying to figure out the best way to get what he wanted."

"No doubt," Helen echoed, her mind racing ahead as she connected the dots. Martha Kent had claimed her baby was a result of a one stand and yet she had been vague about her dates. She had given a time period of four weeks, when clearly she had only been to Metropolis once. However if she had been having an affair with Lionel Luthor -she doubted those late night had been innocent - then she wouldn't be clear about her dates. Her reticence about sharing her pregnancy news, about actively trying to conceal it would also make more sense. Martha Kent was having Lionel Luthor's baby and he knew nothing about it.

Her mouth twitched as she suppressed her smile, both Luthor men would talk about how knowledge was power and she now certainly held an ace, one that she was sure would be useful in the weeks ahead, should it be required. Her mood improved, she stepped into Lex's arms, telling him confidently, "Well whatever his reasons are for keeping the house, they certainly aren't going to put a dampener on our big day."

Lex's smile was wide as he replied, "Nothing possibly could."


	23. Chapter 23

**My computer is somewhat broken, it's going to be a while before I can replace it, so until then I'm updating via my phone which takes me forever. I hope you enjoy this update and thank you for all your reviews.**

 **Clips are from the episode Calling.**

* * *

Martha inhaled sharply as the cold gel hit her skin, her heart racing as Dr Ralston pressed the ultrasound probe against her stomach. She closed her eyes as listened to the clicking of the machine, waiting to hear if everything was ok. The sound of her baby's heartbeat suddenly filled the room and she let out a sigh of relief, opening her eyes as she felt herself tear up slightly. Dr Ralston shot her a small smile as she asked, "Have you been worried about this?"

"It still all feels so surreal," Martha admitted. "I just keep waiting for something to go wrong."

"I can understand why you would feel that way with your medical history, but whilst we believed that it would stop you conceiving, there isn't any evidence that it would prevent you carrying this baby to term."

"But my age might," Martha couldn't help but add.

"Your age does increase some risk factors, I won't minimise that. But there are also a large number of healthy babies who are born to older mothers." She turned the screen so Martha could see it, a kind smile on her face as she told her calmly, "And your baby is growing well."

Martha broke into a wild smile as she saw her baby again, watched as they moved their tiny limbs around, stretching out. She could watch them all day in utter fascination. "And they look healthy?"

"There are no signs of any risk factors we would look for at this stage, at your twenty week scan we have a clearer picture of any anomalies that might be present. However, given your age you are entitled to an amniocentesis, which is our only accurate pre-birth test that will identify any chromosomal conditions."

"I've read about it." Martha shook her head. "I don't want it. The risk attached to it...I just couldn't. I've waited years for this baby." She looked back at the screen. "So everything is ok?"

"Your baby is measuring perfectly for thirteen weeks. If you've had any sickness it should start to abate in the next few weeks."

"I've been quite lucky with that, I've not really had much sickness." Her mouth quirked with a wry smile, as she added, "Unfortunately though, the smell of coffee has made me feel a bit nauseous at times."

"Not what one would want when working in a coffee shop," Dr Ralston smiled. "You can hardly get away from it there." She stretched back slightly. "Do you have any questions?"

Martha nodded, "I wondered if I should be showing more at this stage." Admittedly at first part of her had been relieved that her figure hadn't changed too much - it avoided any awkward questions. She had the slightest of swelling at her stomach, but no worse than if she's eaten a large meal, and she'd had to go up a bra size but that had been it. Then over the last week or so she had started to worry that perhaps she didn't have enough pregnancy symptoms. She was more tired than usual and didn't enjoy the smell of coffee anymore but that was it, sometimes she worried that it was a sign something would go wrong or that she had dreamt all of this, that it wasn't really happening.

"Some women don't show for a while, especially with first pregnancy's because your abdominal muscles are tighter, whereas with subsequent pregnancies they have lost some of that. It's not something for you to worry about, we will keep an eye on baby's growth, try not to worry too much at this stage."

"I suppose I can't quite stop worrying that something bad will happen."

Reaching out to pat her hand comfortingly. "Martha, I can't guarantee any woman that nothing will go wrong, but there is certainly nothing here to suggest that you won't have a healthy pregnancy. I know it's easier said than done, but try not to put too much stress onto yourself, it's not good for either of you."

"I'll try," Martha replied.

"Good. Now I'll print off a copy of this scan for you and then you are good to go. Just the one copy?" She asked.

"Actually if you could print out two." She had to tell Lionel soon, she couldn't keep putting it off, he had a right to know, to be involved and he might want his own copy, she could at least offer him that. She already felt slightly uncomfortable that he had missed this. Dr Ralston didn't react to her request, but then why would she Martha thought.

* * *

It was a genuine smile that Helen gave as she bumped into Martha Kent in the corridor of Smallville General. After all she did like the Kent's it was just a bonus that they could potentially prove useful to her. "You're looking well," she remarked. Her voice lowering conspiratorially as she added, "Some might even say glowing."

"There's some days where I most certainly don't feel it."

"The first trimester can be pretty rough." Her head tilted slightly, "Although you must be almost out of that."

"Thirteen weeks," Martha acknowledged with a smile.

They fell into step together. "So should we expect an announcement soon?"

Martha's head dipped as she admitted, "I haven't told Clark yet." Her gaze was forthright as she explained, "I'm worried about how he'll take the news and before now everything seemed so uncertain, I kept waiting for something to go wrong."

Helen managed to stop herself from remarking that she was right in thinking that Clark would have a hard time accepting that not only was he about to have a sibling but that it would also be the offspring of Lionel Luthor. She had heard murmurings of how much Jonathan Kent had disliked the Luther family, and although Lex and Clark were close, she doubted that he was willing to show Lionel anything near the same level of courtesy. Instead she replied, "Well you're past the most unstable part of your pregnancy and you might not be able to hide it for much longer."

"I know. So I've decided that I'll tell Clark after the wedding."

"I'm curious, why after?"

"He's so excited about being Lex's best man and I don't want him to be distracted. The wedding is only three days away, it shouldn't make a difference."

Helen was impressed by how easily Martha could make her decisions sound rational, deflecting away from what she was really hiding. She would be waiting until after the wedding so that she didn't cause all hell to break loose during it. After all she was going to have to tell Lionel, realistically she couldn't hide it. Helen simply smiled as she replied, "I'm sure you're right."

Martha's eyes were warmer as she met her gaze again, asking her, "And how are you holding up? Not long to go, have you got everything organised?"

"If I'm honest I've left most of the planning to Lex." Her nose wrinkled. "Weddings aren't really my thing, I would have been happy with City Hall but Lex wanted the big day." She gave a relaxed shrug, "I didn't want to deny him that." The big wedding would look better later as well, after all it gave her a chance to present herself as the loved up newlywed, the devoted wife even.

"You should get a say too, it is your day. Lex is full of big ideas but he cares for you, he would listen to what you'd want."

"I know." Not wanting to listen to a list of Lex's supposed good points, Helen made herself smile again, her hand brushing Martha's elbow gently as she calmly interjected, "I'm really sorry, I better go, I'm actually about to meet Lex, in fact he's probably already waiting on me; he's always so punctual. It was lovely talking to you though."

"And you." Martha watched Helen sashay away down the corridor and a small frown fluttered across her features. Something niggled at her, a feeling of discomfort, of sudden mistrust and yet she didn't know why. Martha shook her head, she was being foolish, pregnancy must be making her fanciful. And yet, there was just something about Helen's expressions and her words when she spoke about Lex and the wedding that rang untrue. She sighed, probably just nerves, she told herself; nothing more than nerves.

* * *

Helen rummaged anxiously through the files in Lex's office, it must have been him who took the vial, there wasn't anyone else with the motive to break into her office. Albeit for a brief moment she had considered Martha Kent as a suspect, her appointment time was roughly around that time after all. As quickly as she had considered it she had dismissed it. Martha Kent trusted her.

Her stomach dipped at that thought. She liked the Kent's, genuinely liked them and she didn't want what she knew about Clark to get out. She might keep what she knew about Martha's pregnancy up her sleeve just in case but she drew the line at letting that boy be exploited. She gave a small sigh of frustration and then her fingers paused as she came across the file with Martha Kent's name on it. Pulling it out, she flicked through it as she turned, making her way to the desk with it when she looked up to see Lionel watching her with interest. "You don't think he's hidden it in here, do you?" He asked, his head tilting in mock curiosity.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied.

"I'm talking about the valuable object Lex stole from your office."

It was the amusement on his face that unnerved her the most. "Lex would never steal from me."

"Hmmm." He stepped closer to her and she could see him glance down at the file, which she tilted away from him, blocking the name. "If you believe that then what are you doing rummaging around in here while he's out?"

She stormed past him. "How do I know it wasn't you who broke into my office?"

"Oh dear, it appears I've antagonised the lady of the house. Please would you tell my son I dropped by to offer my best wishes." He made to walk past her and she felt a prang of wariness, that had been too easy. Her fear was realised when he turned and added, "Oh no, that would be difficult, wouldn't it? Because then we'd have to explain that we'd run into each other while we were in here and that I caught you snooping." His hand rubbed against his chin, "Oh that could get really messy, especially with your wedding day almost upon us."

Helen knew that she could wipe that smug, satisfied grin from his face, could put him off her trail quite easily, but it wasn't the time for that;not yet. Know when to play your cards she reminded herself. Gritting her teeth, she told him, "Get out."

Lionel turned as if to leave before pausing, looking back at her. "Can I ask you a question Helen, why are you marrying Lex?"

She folded her arms defensively across herself. "Because I love him."

"Hmmm." He raised an eyebrow at that and finally turned to leave, leaving Helen with the sickening feeling that despite it all he had left with the upper hand in this scenario. When the door shut she reopened the file, scanning through it. It was with no small amount of relief she found nothing about Clark or about the pregnancy, the rest of Martha's tests and their results were present but not that one. She gave a sigh of relief, she still had her ace; for now at least.

* * *

"Dr Walden! Dr Walden!" Clark shouted, his voice echoing throughout the cave. "It's me, Clark Kent, are you down here?" He swung his torch around onto the carvings in the wall, his attention caught for a moment.

He had just stepped forward when he heard, "Fascinating, aren't they?"

Clark swung round, momentarily caught off guard by the torchlight that shone into his eyes. He blinked rapidly, clearing his vision to see Lionel Luthor staring at him. "Mr Luthor."

Lionel ignored the greeting, stepping forward, his hand pressing against the indent, stating, "The octagonal recess in the wall, I once had a...what you would call a keepsake that matched this exactly. It just disappeared from my office..." He swing back round, the torchlight illuminating Clark's face once more, causing him to wince. "In fact it disappeared the very day you rescued your mother and me." He gave a humourless laugh. "An odd coincidence, wouldn't you say?"

Clark have a shake of his head. "Not really, after all it was a break in." He glanced away momentarily as he added, "What are you doing down here?"

"I've taken over conservatorship of the caves." He arched a brow, "didn't Lex tell you?"

"No, he didn't."

"Ah, he just doesn't want to admit defeat, he keeps fighting me on this. I even ran into some of his security people down here. They were looking for that Dr...Dr Walden wasn't it?"

"Dr Walden was obsessed with these caves," Clark confirmed.

"I can understand why. Look at this, these symbols they..." He tailed off for a moment, stepping forward. "They look different, do these look reversed to you?"

Again the light swung into his face. Clark grimaced but managed to inject a note of levity into his voice as he replied, "They're all Kawatche to me." He watched Lionel's mouth curve into a smile at the response. He scuffed his foot against the ground, trying to mask his discomfort. "If you do see Dr Walden, be careful, he could be dangerous."

Lionel's smile stayed steady, "I appreciate the concern." Clark gave a tight nod and moved to leave before Lionel's voice caught him again. "Pass on my regards to your mother."

Clark turned, his eyes narrowed, he had understood Lionel Luthor's gameplay up until this point. "Why?" He asked bluntly.

Lionel's smile changed and his eye flickered with something Clark didn't recognise. "She was a very competent employee, I believe it's called being polite." He glanced around the cave again. "In fact I'm sure she would worry, if she knew you were down here, looking for a dangerous man when surely that should be a role for the police."

"I'm just trying to help."

"But we wouldn't want you getting hurt in the process."

"I can look after myself."

His smile turned self satisfied, "I'm sure you can."

Clark turned, desperate to leave. He felt as though he'd tripped himself up, but he wasn't sure how.

* * *

Martha smiled as Clark met her at the truck, gathering the grocery bags into his arms. "It's nice to see how well trained you are," she remarked. When Clark's expression didn't change, her face fell into a concerned frown. She pressed her hand against his arm. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's Lionel Luthor."

Martha's stomach dropped at his name. "What happened?"

"He's bought the caves."

"Ah." Relief flooded through her, after all Lionel owning the caves was manageable. "I know it will make it more difficult for you to get answers but-"

"It's not that," Clark interrupted. "Well, not just that. It was what he said, he mentioned the key and the way he said it...it's as if he knew that you took it."

Giving a nervous laugh, Martha told him, "He can't do." The lie slipped out far too easily, but she wanted to reassure him; to make him feel safe. "Lionel likes to see what information he can get out of people, don't let him manipulate you into letting something slip."

"I won't. But it did feel like more than that. I can't explain why, but I felt like he knew something." He managed a smile. "I'm sure you're right though."

Martha watched her son make his way back into the house as she considered her next move. She considered speaking to Lionel, but she doubted it would do more than increase his curiosity and she certainly didn't want that. She could feel her control slipping at times, she stood on the precipice of disaster and she wasn't sure how she was going to prevent it. It would be easier if she could hate Lionel, if she could vilify him, but she just couldn't; not entirely. She wanted to turn off her feelings, she had tried, truly tried and still she found herself thinking of the good in him.

Shaking her head, she made her way towards the house. Knowing that the days she left of calm were limited she thought that she may as well make the most of them.

* * *

Lionel looked out over Metropolis, mulling over the events of the last two days. He was close, he knew it, close to discovering the secret of the caves and of Clark Kent. That disc shape was the key, he knew it.

He sipped at his whiskey, it wouldn't be long now, but first things first, he had a wedding to attend. Tomorrow his son would sign himself away to that manipulative gold digger, an unfortunate turn of events but Lex would learn from it and come crawling back. It was always the same, perhaps one day he would learn but clearly that day wasn't yet upon them.

Another sip, he moved away from the window. His apartment was quiet, he'd always liked quiet until now. Now it bothered him, when it was quiet, when he wasn't working out his next step or ruminating over Lex's rebellion then he thought of her. He couldn't think of her, he placed the glass down with a solid clunk, he wouldn't think of her.


	24. Chapter 24

**Thank you for the reviews. I actually didn't realise that Lionel had sent Martha his Regards in the episode prodigal, since I wasnt going to reuse the character of Lucas I didn't rewatch that episode. It was interesting to know though.**

 **Hope this chapter is worth the wait you all had.**

* * *

"You should be on your way by now," Martha scolded her son good naturedly. "I know you like to run close to the wire, but as best man you should make the effort to early."

Clark managed a smile, watching as his Mom searched for her clutch bag amongst the chaos of the kitchen counter. "Your bag's through there," he told her.

"Ah!" She grabbed it triumphantly, kissing Clark's cheek as she rushed back through. "Thank you. I knew I kept you around here for a reason." She stepped back and looked at him, asking, "Now do you want a lift?"

Clark shook his head. "No, don't worry, I'll make it in time."

"You better," she warned him.

"Lana's coming to get me." He gave another small smile, "She's going to be my date."

"Finally," Martha smiled. Despite what she thought about Lana's fickleness when it came to matters of the heart, she knew how much this would mean to her son and she was happy for him. That and perhaps selfishly she hoped that having the girl he had pined for for the last three years would soften her own news. "I still expect a dance later tonight," she warned him. "I don't care if you have landed yourself your dream date."

"I'll do my best," he replied. His voice took on a solemn tone as he told her, "You look really good, Mom." When he saw the flash of concern that crossed her eyes at his expression he added quickly, "It can't be easy for you, first wedding after Dad..." He gave a shrug. "The dress suits you."

Her face relaxed, she didn't tell him that she'd been slightly concerned that she was going to have to sew herself into the damn thing. "Thank you Clark, you know I could get used to all these compliments." Still she couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was bothering her son. She touched his hand as she asked him, "Are you sure that everything is ok? I would have thought you'd be doing victory laps around the farm now that you've won the girl."

Clark managed a smile. "I've still got time for that, remember I can run pretty fast."

"You didn't answer my question," she prompted him.

"I'm fine, just nervous about my speech and my first proper date with Lana."

"Ok," Martha gave a nod, she wasn't entirely convinced by Clark's explanation but he clearly wasn't ready to talk about it just yet. "Well I suppose that I'll see you there then."

"On time, front and centre," he confirmed with a smile.

"Good." Hesitating slightly, Martha tapped her clutch bag against the palm of her hand for a few seconds before she added, "I thought that maybe tomorrow I could cook dinner, whatever you wanted and we could catch up. I know how busy we've both been recently..." She tailed off, she couldn't force herself to continue, knowing that really although she was presenting this as positively as she could, she was going to rip Clark's perception of her apart tomorrow.

"I'd like that." He gave her a sudden hug, his head pressing into her shoulder. "Have a good time today, Mom."

She kissed the top of his head, in moments like this she felt as though he was still just the little boy she had opened her heart to all those years ago. "You know if there's something bothering you that you can speak to me about it?"

"I know. Tomorrow," he told her, pulling away from the hug, straightening up. He glanced up at the clock and told her teasingly, "But you better get going, or you'll be late."

Martha smiled, "I should be saying that to you." She lifted her hand in a wave before turning to leave the house, turning at the door to give him a last minute reassurance, "You will be fine, I've heard you practicing your speech and you're going to do Lex proud."

"I hope so." Clark watched his Mom go, he felt terrible for hiding what he was about to do from her but he just couldn't tell her.

He listened to the truck pulling out of the drive and began moving towards the barn. He felt sick at the thought of the kryptonite key but it needed to be done,, he had run out of options. Jor El was determined that he conquer Earth and it wasn't what he wanted, he wanted to stay here with his family, his friends and Lana. He didn't want to be a symbol of fear. His chest burned with his scar, a reminder that he had to do this, he had to; it was the only way.

* * *

Lionel sat back in his town car, his long fingers tapping impatiently against his thigh as he waited outside the church. He shouldn't be here, he thought to himself; Lex had made his decision and had been clear that he wasn't wanted. Really his time would be better spent trying to find that missing disc, a scowl feel across his face, it was infuriating to know that it had slipped from his grasp for a second time. It was tied to Clark Kent, that he was sure of.

What he wanted to do was instruct Seth to turn the car around, take him back to the caves, allow him to find answers and yet here he was. It was her influence. He struggled to explain it, but her words about Lex, about their relationship stuck with him. Often he would wait for Lex to come round to his way of thinking, but a wife would switch his loyalty, his allegiances and he couldn't stand by and watch Lex through himself away to this particular woman. Lionel had dealt with woman like Helen, fortune hunters, but even he had to admit that she had managed this game better than most. Her calling off the wedding and then suddenly deciding to forgive Lex and stand by him hadn't escaped his notice, but it had been an inspired power play by her. Lex had been spared a humiliation and would think himself lucky to have her, she held Lex right where she wanted him.

He watched as Helen's wedding car finally pulled into the church parking lot and he swung himself out of his car, striding over to her as she made to climb out. Lionel stood to the side and held out his hand to her. Not realising it was him, her hand slipped into his and she used the leverage to pull herself up and out. Helen glanced up, her smile of thanks sliding from her face when she saw him. "What are you going here?"

"It's my son's wedding day, where else would I be?" He asked smoothly. "Especially as it looked unlikely it would even go ahead. Lex would have needed support."

She bristled. "Lionel Luthor and the word support don't exactly go hand in hand." Her eyes narrowed as she added, "And I feel it's prudent to point out that as you weren't actually invited then it's unlikely that Lex would even have welcome your particular brand of support." She looked agitatedly past him, towards the church. "Anyway as you can see the wedding is going ahead, so you aren't needed here."

"Hmmm, is it really though?"

Her shoulders drew back at the amusement in his tone, it was what she hated most about him, that she felt he had never taken her seriously, that he dismissed her as joke, as someone unworthy of his effort and concern. Although, she thought with a smirk, he was here, trying to persuade her to walk away, so perhaps he was finally taking note. Feeling bolder, she gestured to her dress, "Obviously."

"I wonder if perhaps there isn't something that would convince you that marrying Lex isn't in your best interest." His eyes narrowed. "How much?" He asked bluntly.

Helen laughed, her head tilting back as she let out the mirthless sound. "You still think you can make me walk away from Lex by offering me money?"

"I can think of no other motive for this wedding."

"I love him," she stated defiantly.

Lionel sighed, his eyes rolling in derision. "Yes so you've claimed."

Helen's jaw set in terse determination as she took a step towards Lionel, telling him "You seem determined to make out that the only reason I'm marrying Lex is for his money, and yet I have no doubt that you'll have the seen the iron clad pre-nup that Lex has had me sign. So..." She let the last word out on a hiss, glaring up at Lionel. "Explain to me just how I'm marrying him to strip him of his fortune."

Lionel chuckled at her display of indignation. "Not all gold diggers are aiming for divorce. You have managed to quite successfully, I admit, maneuver Lex right where you want him to be, but you can't fool me."

"I'm sure you think that no woman could." Helen needed him out of her way, she was too close to everything she had planned to let him ruin it now. And as she spotted Martha Kent rushing out of the church she saw her opportunity, her steely gaze landing on her pointedly as she told him, "And yet, I can think of one woman who has most definitely managed to do just that. Perhaps instead of interrogating me you should be turning your attention to her, because I assure you that my marriage to Lex is a done deal." With that she stormed past him as elegantly as she could manage in her dress and made a beeline for the church, a triumphant smile on her face when she realised that it wasn't her Lionel Luthor had decided to pursue; it was Martha.

* * *

Her hand was on the door handle of the truck when she heard her name. His tone sharp, demanding, "Martha."

She felt a flash of panic, she didn't have time, she had to get to Clark before he did something he'd regret. Glancing over her shoulder she saw him approaching fast and called back, "I don't have time to talk just now."

Lionel was quicker than she was, his hand pressing the door shut just as she'd wrenches it open. "Make time," he instructed her.

Martha bristled instantly at his words. "You don't get to order me around Lionel," she told him, turning to confront him. "I'm not your employee anymore."

"That I'm aware of." His eyes met hers, his mouth set into a firm line. "Where are you rushing off too?"

"I'm going to get Clark, he must have been caught up. I don't want him to miss this."

Just as the words left her mouth, the organ music started and Lionel commented, "Well as it appears that ship has sailed, you have time after all."

"You need to learn to take no for an answer. I've already told you I need to go," she snapped.

His hand stayed pressed against the truck. "Where's the disc?" He asked, his tone terse, demanding.

"Really? We're back to this again?"

"I find it too much of a coincidence that your son's friends were causing a disturbance in the caves and that after that I discovered that yet another disc has gone missing."

"Another disc?" Martha echoed.

"Don't play coy Martha, it doesn't suit you," he chided her. "The disc made out of the meoteor rocks. Where is it?"

A flash of realisation hit her, Clark was going to destroy the ship, he thought that would rid him of Jor El, of the pressure he felt. She forced herself to look calm to sound controlled. "I don't know anything about your second disc and as unfortunate as it may be, I doubt that it should be your priority today." She glanced meaningfully back at the church.

Lionel smiled humourlessly. "You're so very convincing," he told her, his voice dropping to a low murmur, stepping closer to her still, crowding in on her, his gaze never leaving hers. "But there's always that momentary flash in your eyes that gives you away, I never used to notice it, but now that I know you so well, I do."

"Is this really how you want to spend your son's wedding day Lionel? Questioning me about some lost disc?" She changed her attack, hoping to throw him off guard.

"Well as I wasn't invited I had to find something else to do."

"Your time would be better spent making amends with your son, because I assure you Lionel that there is nothing for you to find out about Clark." She met his stare head on as she continued, "When you look back on today you're going to regret not being in that church, invited or not."

"I very much doubt that I'll regret not watching Lex tie himself to that millstone," he snapped back. "She's using him."

"And if she isn't? Then you've lost him." Martha looked at him in exasperation "And what if she is? Do you think he'll come back to you? Look to you for advice when you've done nothing to support him?"

Lionel's temper flared. "I have tried to help Lex."

"You offering her money to leave him isn't a form of help!" Martha snapped back.

He looked momentarily surprised before remarking, "I assume that Lex's discretion around that event failed him."

"Why would he have to be discreet? You haven't been," she pointed out. "You're going to chase him away, you expect him to defer to you and that's not how parenthood works; not when they're adults." Martha shook her head. "For Gods sake, Lionel, let this odd theory you have about Clark and I go and focus on your son!"

"That would be convenient for you both, I'm sure."

"Think what you want," she replied. "Waste your time but I won't let you waste mine." Her hand pressed firmly against his arm, relieved when it fell away from the truck door. "Now as I said, I have somewhere to be, and so do you."

Lionel leaned in close to her, his mouth next to her ear as he whispered to her, "I will find out your secret and I'm not going to stop until I do."

"Why do you care so much?" Martha challenged him.

There was an almost imperceptible widening of his eyes and he chose not to answer her, instead turning to walk away, making for his own car.

Martha climbed into her own truck, her hands shaking. She clenched her fists together for a moment, breathing deeply. She watched his car drive smoothly away and she pressed her hands against her stomach. What was she going to do? This baby put her even more in his path and for some reason he was determined to strip all of her secrets bare, especially the one concerning Clark.

Clark, the thought of him shook her into action. He was going to use the kryptonite key, she knew it. She started the ignition and pulled quickly out onto the main road, just in time to feel the ground shake under her wheels. She braked, the car skidding to a halt, dust from the road coating the windows, but it had stopped as quickly as it started and it was only as she glanced in the direction of the farm and saw the smoke billowing into the air that she realised in horror that she was too late.

* * *

Clark lay on his bed, listening to his Mom on the phone, to her protestations to the insurance company. It all sounded fruitless to his ears.

The scar on his chest burned as badly as ever, she had seen it early when she'd arrived home, stumbling out of the car to find him covered in dirt and staring into the crater he'd just climbed out of. Her look had been one of horror as she'd checked him for any other marks and it had been a few minutes before she'd even realised that the barn was no more.

Now he listened to her try and fix that mess, the mess he'd created, again. She'd quizzed him about what had happened, about why he'd done it, why he hadn't come to her and he hadn't been able to find the words.

Slowly, he swung his legs off the bed and made his way to the top of the stairs. Maybe he should try now, try to tell her everything. He reached the top of the stairs in time to hear her slam the phone down, to hear her frustrated sobs.

He crept softly down the first few steps, pausing when he saw pick up the photo of his Dad that she kept on the side table. "You should be here," he heard her whisper. "You should be here with us! Why did you have to do it Jonathan? Why did you have to chase that damn journalist. If you'd just stayed where you were, safe with me in the shelter then Clark would have had you to talk to." She slammed down the photo, sobbing bitterly into her hands.

Clark turned, not making his presence known. He'd not told his Mom just how much his hearing had improved, she wouldn't have know he could hear her. He swallowed heavily as he processed her words. His Dad has been in the shelter, he'd been safe and he'd left to chase that journalist, the journalist who knew about him because he'd been careless. He'd been careless today as well. If his Mom had been five minutes earlier she might have been caught in the blast, she hadn't said it but he'd done the maths. He could have lost her as well and it would have been his own fault. All he'd wanted was to stay with his family, to keep them safe and yet he was the cause of all their misery.

Digging through his drawer, he pulled out the red kryptonite ring, a sheet of paper and a pen and sat down at his desk to write.

* * *

Martha rubbed her eyes blearily as she made her way down the stairs, her eyes stinging from tiredness. She tried to mentally prepare herself for the day ahead, for another round of arguments with the insurers. Still at least Clark wasn't injured, quiet and out of sorts but she would speak to him today. Help him work through that, make him understand that she wasn't angry.

As she yawned, a flash of white on the side table caught her eye. She picked up the letter and opened it, her world suddenly crumbling.

* * *

Lionel flicked through the sheets of papers across his desk as he took a mouthful of coffee. Picking one up, he swung his desk chair around to look down at the hustle and bustle of Metropolis as he scanned the document.

The knock at his office door broke his concentration. He scowled, ready to scold his assistant for disturbing him when he realised she wasn't alone, instead two uniformed officers accompanied her.

They took their hats from their heads and as they spoke Lionel felt his world shatter.


	25. Chapter 25

**So I kind of felt that the last few chapters that I'd written on my phone just weren't quite up to scratch. So I abandoned writing on the phone, but this meant no updates until I could replace my laptop. And now I have. Happy Days!**

 **This chapter wasn't exactly as I planned but I managed to coerce it into at least following the plot-line. Hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

The fire crackled, giving off a small spark as one log cracked with the heat. Martha watched the flames blankly as she twirled her rings around her finger distractedly, finally pulled from her thoughts as a warm mug was pressed into her hands. She looked down at the mug of hot chocolate and managed a small smile as she looked up at her father. "I remember you making me this whenever I was upset," she remarked. "Of course, I was much smaller then."

His eyes crinkled, a warm smile of remembrance softening his features. "You were, and the problems troubling you were much less distressing." His smile faded and he turned to sink heavily into the arm chair across from her. "How did you get on today?"

"No sign of Clark, at this moment in time I don't think he wants to be found," Martha admitted quietly. She had been reluctant to plaster the city with posters bearing his image and appealing for information, he wore the red kryptonite ring, he would be reckless, and she couldn't risk drawing too much attention. Her eyes fixed onto the flames again.

"It's only been a week," her father tried to assure her. "Plenty time yet for Clark to come back on his own. Teenagers are stubborn."

"Don't I know it." Martha took a sip from her mug, leaning back against her chair. "It's not just stubbornness though," she added after a beat of silence. "Clark blames himself for what happened on the farm."

William gave a small tut. "The boy can't blame himself for a gas leak."

Martha's eye flickered at the lie, it was necessary for everyone to believe it, but she felt as though all she did just now was lie or conceal the truth. "But he does," she murmured. She shook her head. "I'm doing no good here. I should go back to the farm." She stared into the fire again. "Perhaps you're right, maybe he will come back when he's ready,"

William shifted uncomfortably as he asked, "Have the insurance company said anything else?"

"They've said plenty, none of it particularly helpful though." Martha rubbed her forehead as she felt the beginnings of another tension headache grip at her. "They're still debating the merits of my claim." Her lips thinned. "And if they don't find in my favour then…" She trailed off, the words hanging in the air.

"Martha, I know I must appear cruel, to not offer the money to save the farm, but the place is a money pit. I won't throw good after bad." He eyed her warily. "There will always be a place for you, and for Clark, here."

"I don't hold it against you," she assured him, and she didn't. The money needed was an extraordinarily large amount and she couldn't in all good consciousness ask that from him. "It's not your job to bail me out all the time. But for the moment Smallville is my home and if Clark is going to come home then it's to there, not to here." She met his forthright gaze and managed a smile. "So I'll find a way to stay there."

"Very well." He nodded. "But the offer stands; always."

Martha's reply died in her throat as the television in the corner caught her attention. She lunged for the remote and turned up the volume to listen to the latest update.

 _Mrs Luthor was released from Metropolis General Hospital earlier today, following a period of observation. Mrs Luthor was found five days ago by a private fishing boat off the coast following the crash of her and her husbands private charter plane. The couple were heading to their honeymoon destination when the flight appeared to have run into unknown difficulties ,that caused it to crash into the Pacific. At this time Lex Luthor and the plane itself remain missing and the police continue with their enquiries. It is believed that Mrs Luthor has informed police that she exited the plane via parachute prior to the crash, but that her husband was still aboard when the plane went down. Mrs Luthor made no comment to journalists today on leaving the hospital. Lionel Luthor however released a statement today that confirmed that he would continue to search for his son, who he believes has survived the accident._

Martha watched as the official of Lex was minimised to the corner of the screen, as the footage of Helen Luthor leaving the hospital, pressing her way through the swarms of journalists. Her small frame was swathed in black, her eyes hidden by large sunglasses, her lips pursed together as the camera zoomed into her face. She was bundled into the car before it swept away. A tug of discomfort pulled at Martha, something about the image, about the story didn't sit with her, but she couldn't say why.

"Terrible thing," she heard her father mutter from his chair. "To outlive your own child. Even Lionel Luthor doesn't deserve that hell."

"You know him?" Martha asked.

"No, just of him. Ruthless man, although," William's hands splayed. "One would imagine you'd have to be to stay at the top of that game. A man like Luthor, and believe me I've encountered a few, they're all about legacy, he won't take well to having lost his." Martha had to stop herself from resting her hand across her stomach at those words. She felt his eyes on her. "You worked for him, how did you find him?"

"I don't know if I would call him something as simple as ruthless." She didn't want to discuss Lionel, her headache was getting worse just at the thought. She put her cup down at the side. "I'm going to go to bed." She got up, pausing at her father's chair, dropping a kiss onto his forehead. "Goodnight," she told him softly.

She heard him echo the words as she made her way upstairs. She needed to face Lionel at some point, it was only right she passed on her condolences in person and she had left it long enough. Her heart ached for both him and Lex, for his loss. At least she knew that Clark was out there, that he was alive. Lionel didn't even have that comfort to hold onto.

* * *

Lionel spread the maps out across his desk, looking at the route the plane would have taken, the spot that Helen claimed to have been found marked. The search teams, both those provided by the police and coastguard, and those he had hired had found nothing. His fingernail picked at Helen's marker, the fingers of his opposite hand drumming against the desk in agitation. It was too much of a co-incidence that with all those teams looking, that Helen would be found by a stray fishing vessel, whilst nothing else had been recovered.

His hand bunched into the paper of the corner of the map, crunching it in his palm. She was a liar, he thought viciously, blatantly so and yet no-one else could see it. They saw her as the distraught widow and there was no doubt that she could play her part well, the trembling bottom lip, the eyes that filled with tears that never quite fell.

The door to his office creaked open, the unsure face of his housekeeper peering into the room. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Sir-"

"Especially as I gave express orders that I didn't want to be," he snapped back, slamming his hand into the desk.

She jumped at the noise. "I understand, it's just that you have a visitor and I thought-"

"I don't want to see any damned visitors," Lionel snarled. He looked back at the map, it was doing no real good, but he just needed time to figure out his next move. He could find Lex.

"Very well. I'll inform Mrs Kent that you're not receiving visitors."

Lionel looked up at the name. He hadn't expected her to call, not with Clark still missing, but the thought of being able to see her again brought a modicum of calm to his frazzled brain. He held up his hand. "On second thought," he cut in quickly before the door closed over again. "Ask Mrs Kent to come through."

For a moment he thought he saw the hint of a knowing smile cross his housekeepers' lips – but surely not -as she nodded. "Of course, Sir. Should I arrange for tea? Perhaps send through some food, after all you haven't eaten yet today."

"Um yes," Lionel waved his hand impatiently as he rolled up the maps, sliding them carefully away. Seeing Martha always brought some clarity to his thoughts, perhaps it would do the same now, and that clarity would help him find his son. He straightened as Martha walked into the room, she looked tired, unsure of herself. Her red hair was tucked behind her ear on the left side, she was clad in her usual jeans and plaid but the clothing looked more worn than usual, the pattern of her shirt faded and the legs of her jeans stained with old paint and grass stains. "I didn't expect to see you here," he remarked.

"I felt it was best to pay my respects in person."

Lionel bristled at her choice in words. "Lex is simply missing, it's only a matter of time until I bring him home." His gaze met his, an unspoken challenge in them. "Much like you will with Clark."

Martha grimaced. "You heard then."

"I did." He stalked out from behind his desk. "It's ironic that both our sons should go missing on the same day."

"I suppose that's one word for it." Martha bit down momentarily on her bottom lip. "I had brought flowers, but your staff have spirited them away."

"Thoughtful of you. Unnecessary though, as I said Lex will be returning home shortly."

Martha's lips pulled together, and she gave a short, clipped nod. "I hope you're right." She took a step back. "I suppose then I've said what I came here to say, so I should go."

"Wait," he called out unthinkingly, relieved when she turned to face him, caught out when he realised, he hadn't thought much past this moment. "Any news on Clark?"

She shook her head, her face becoming pinched with worry as she admitted, "Nothing yet. I don't think he wants me to find him." Inhaling sharply she added, "Pounding the streets of Metropolis isn't doing any good, perhaps I should wait for him to come to me." She managed a tight smile. "After all teenagers always do the opposite of what you want them to."

"Lex certainly did." The office door opened again as tea and a tray of sandwiches were brought in and Lionel thanked the fates for their timing. "You should stay and eat something," he told her.

Martha pressed her hands together, twisting her rings around her finger as she gave a small shake of her head. "I'm not sure that would be the best idea."

He stepped closer to her, his head tilting thoughtfully as he watched her. "I know we didn't part on the best of terms last time that we spoke."

"That would be somewhat of an understatement." She turned her face to his. "We're a mess Lionel and I don't think sitting down over some tea and sandwiches is the answer."

"No, I would agree with that, but we both have to eat."

Martha felt almost wrong-footed, and she wasn't even sure why she was surprised, Lionel could do that with ease. She had come because it was the right thing to do, because she had cared for Lex and for Lionel and had wanted to pass on her condolences in person. But Lionel didn't want condolences, he wasn't ready to give up yet, and she wasn't sure why she was surprised. Lionel was a man who always got the world to fall in line with him, losing his son wasn't part of his plan and he wouldn't submit to it without a fight. She should leave, she knew that, knew that her reason for being here was done with and that it would be prudent for her to go now. "I still don't think-"

"Martha, please." It was the please that caught her, along with the flash in his eyes, a look she hadn't seen before, that made her nod and sit perched on the edge of the sofa. She noticed the mildest of tremors in his hand as he poured the tea, saw the strain across his face and in an instant she knew that Lionel Luthor wasn't as calm and self-assured as he was trying to portray. As he sat across from her, he asked calmly, "How's the farm? I heard there was substantial damage-"

"There was," she replied quickly.

"How long will it take to fix?"

"That is up for debate." Martha rubbed her forehead. "I'd rather not discuss it to be honest."

"Very well."

Another moment of silence passed before Martha asked, "Have you seen Helen? Has she given any information that can help with the search?"

"I have seen her, and no, she hasn't," he replied curtly. "I'd rather not speak about Helen Bryce," he added.

"Right, of course." Martha gave a small sigh and they passed the next few minutes in silence.

"The day of Lex's wedding," Lionel said after a moment. "We should probably discuss what happened."

"Is there any need to?" Martha sipped at her tea, trying to remember how much caffeine she had already had today and eyed one of the sandwiches, truth be told she was starving. She reached for it, avoiding Lionel's curious gaze.

"I think so. A lot was said."

"And we can't unsay it."

"No."

"Or do you intend to offer me one of your apologies?"

One of my apologies?" He echoed.

"Yes, where you tell me that you're sorry and that you won't do it again, only to turn around and do it again anyway, because you're Lionel Luthor and you do whatever you want." Her eyes met his as she took a bite of her sandwich.

"I suppose I have two options then, to either stop apologising or to stop repeating the same mistake."

"Do you see it as a mistake?"

"Which part?"

"You know very well which part I mean."

"You're right," he admitted. "I do." He leaned back in his chair, he had missed her, had missed her refreshing honesty. "I still think that you're hiding something," he told her. "But it's not a priority right now."

"If I had something to hide then I suppose I would be relieved." She thought of her baby, their baby, which she was most definitely hiding, but that wasn't what Lionel was looking out for now. She could have understood more if it had been, but what he had wanted was the truth about Clark.

"Doesn't mean I've given up though."

"No, I wasn't foolish enough to think that." Her appetite vanished and she put the half eaten sandwich back onto the platter. "As I said Lionel, I really shouldn't stay."

"At least this time I was honest."

"You were, great strides have been made."

"You sound angry."

"I am," she admitted. She pressed her hand against her forehead. "I'm angry and tired of this game playing Lionel. I don't want to do it anymore and I don't see how, given the circumstances, that you can honestly want to either."

"Circumstances," he echoed. "There are no circumstances, Lex is coming home in the near future and it will go back to the status quo."

"Fine. Either way I'm done."

He rose as she did, following at her heels, "He is coming home," he repeated. "Lex will come home."

"I hope he does."

"But you don't believe he will." Lionel pressed at her, unsure why he was needling away but doing it anyway.

"What does it matter?" She knew she should stop, should let him believe what he wanted to, what he needed to so that he could get through the day and yet she didn't. "The great Lionel Luthor has spoken."

"This isn't like you, Martha."

She turned. "It's how I feel though. I'm tired of pretending, Lionel. Clark is missing, and I know I could have done better, done more to prevent this from happening. The farm is falling down around my ears and I'm facing the real possibility of losing the business that was in my husband's family for generations, along with my home. And Lex…" Her voice cracked and tailed off. "I can't bear to think about what-" Martha shook her head. "I can't do this anymore Lionel. You win. Whatever your game was, you've won."

His hand caught her arm. "There was never a game with you. You are the one thing I never planed for. I never expected to feel-" His gaze caught hers and his voice was raw with pain as he admitted, "I can't stop looking for Lex, he is my son and if he was…if he was…I would know!" He pulled her closer and she let him. "I would know," he asserted.

"I hope you're right."

"I am." Lionel's hands grasped Martha's face, his thumbs brushing her cheekbones. "I never set out to hurt you. What I said at the hospital, I meant it."

"But you went against it in the end."

"I did," he admitted. "I wanted to know what you were hiding but I never wanted to cause this."

She was leaning into him, she needed to stop. She'd said she wouldn't do this again, and yet as his mouth brushed hers in the most fleeting of caresses, she felt herself pull him closer instead of pushing him away. "This only ever solves things for a moment," she remarked, unsure if she was telling him or herself.

"But what a moment." His voice was gruff. He needed this, needed her. He wanted to fix what he'd done, and he had to start somewhere.


End file.
